


What You Will

by bushlaboo



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Humor, Bratva Oliver, Character Death, Coffeehouse Encounters, Crossover, Dialogue-Only, Drunk!Felicity, Episode Related, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, Hockey, Hurt/Comfort, Implied sexy times, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Meet-Cute, Nanda Parbat, Summer of Olicity, Tumblr Prompt, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/pseuds/bushlaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to house my responses to Tumblr prompts. (Tags will be added as prompts are filled.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School Boy Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity au where Felicity teaches Connor in kindergarten and she meets Oliver requested by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This nearly went on forever because I had no idea what I was doing and finding a natural place to end on seemed impossible. Anyway, I’ve filled my first prompt. Yay!

It started with _Kindergarten Cop_. The elderly – well at least she’d seemed ancient to Felicity at the time – neighbor her mother left her with so she could work nights at the casino was a huge fan of Arnold Schwarzenegger and she'd been too young for _Terminator_ films, so she spent many an evening watching his more family-friendly films like _Kindergarten Cop_ , _Twins_ , and _Jingle All the Way_ \- that film made her particularly relieved to be Jewish.

The first time she saw the film had been a few days after her sixth birthday and seeing John Kimble be so protective of and vested in his young charges had stirred something inside her. She wanted to be that, a guiding light in young lives. Someone who could make a difference, not just teaching rudimentary facts and figures, but proving kids with a solid base; because Felicity knew what it was not to have one, having lost hers the day her father abandoned them.

Though she had other interest and aptitudes, her college computer science professor had told her she could be teaching most of his classes, she majored in early childhood development with a psychology minor before seeking her teacher's certificate. She'd graduated young and at the top of her class, and had been headhunted by the most prestigious private schools in the country.

Having been a public school student Felicity had her heart set on returning to her roots, though not to Vegas. She loved her mother but being away at college hammered home the fact that their relationship did better with a little distance - at least a five hundred miles - and two or three visits a year.

She'd interviewed at half dozen schools, deciding on Starling City because it was a district that was finally on the upturn after years of struggle and was open to innovative thinking to engage their student population; it was also the perfect distance from Vegas. Close enough not to kill their bank accounts to visit but far enough away that the number of visits would not increase because of ease.

In the year she'd been living and teaching in Starling the city had become her home. She loved the quaint brownstone she lived in, it was five blocks from the school she taught at with a park she liked to jog in on the weekends nearby and the best coffeehouse in the city, Java Jolt, on the way to work. Her fellow teachers were amiable and her first class of students had been a joy. So much so she had teared up on their last day because she'd miss them, even the Marcus girl who'd been such a brat at first. It had been a challenge reaching her, one that had taken half the year before she finally got through to the girl. When she had it felt like one of great accomplishments of her life. Felicity had already spoken with her new first grade teacher so the progress she made would not falter.

Felicity had been looking forward her new batch of students and the challenges they'd bring. What she hadn't expected, what no one had warned her about, was the possibility of being utterly charmed by a student. Connor Hawke-Queen was an outgoing, intelligent young imp with sandy hair and wise hazel eyes. He was always the first to volunteer, stepped in if another student was being bully, and was genuinely funny. It was difficult to admit, but the truth was she'd gone soft on him. After a month of teaching her new class Felicity found she had a favorite. It had never happened before. In all her volunteering and training she had come to care about all the kids she worked with, but there had never been one she'd singled out before.

She managed not to show him preference but it was hard sometimes fighting the urge to ruffle his hair or give him a little squeeze like she did with her neighbors kids. In fact, she'd been tempted to reach out to Connor's parents because Peter and Wendy - Cindy was a huge J.M. Barrie fan - were a year older and a year younger respectively and she knew they'd get on. She hadn't of course. It would be crossing a line from professional to well _not_. It was one thing to enjoy and inspire her students; it was another to want to inject herself into their lives. Though it hurt some she maintained her professional distance, teaching and treating Connor like all her students. Or at least she thought she had.

The Friday before they spent the day on various craft projects, making decorations and valentines for their classmates for their party Monday afternoon. Felicity spent her Sunday baking cookies and had come in early Monday morning to get the last of their decorations hung. She had been getting their daily lesson written out on board, fun and appropriate things they could learn about the holiday, its origins, and its significance when a familiar voice shyly called out, "Miss Smoak."

She turned, red pen in her mouth, chalk in hand to find Connor clutching a bouquet of flowers with a Batman balloon – she knew Batman was his favorite because he dressed like the Cape Crusader for Halloween and at least twice a week wore something Bat related. His other had was tucked into the hand of the man standing next to him and the older version of Connor had the most ridiculously large heart-shaped box of candy under his arm.

Felicity knew her young student was waiting for a response of some kind but she was overwhelmed by the picture they made. Connor was a beautiful boy, but the man with him was downright gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered with perfectly groomed stubble over a chiseled jaw with bluest eyes she had ever seen. The word handsome didn't do him justice and Felicity knew she was gawking but she couldn't stop. She thought it was impressive that her jaw hadn't dropped and she wasn't drooling.

She blinked and they were still standing there when her eyes opened. Not a mirage then. Connor shuffled his feet nervously and that finally spurred her into action because she'd never seen him that way. "Good—“ she started to greet, but the word was garbled around the pen. Embarrassed she felt pink stain her cheeks. In a quick move she placed the chalk on the shelf along the blackboard and tucked the pen behind her ear and started again, “Good morning Connor."

He beamed up at her and she noted that his loose front tooth had finally fallen out over the weekend. "Happy Valen's Day," he replied moving forward, and once again she found his incomplete pronunciation adorable, and the missing tooth added a slight lisp. Connor stopped just shy of her and held the flowers up and out, offering them to her.

Felicity felt her eyes go wide behind her glasses. Delighted by the gesture and the child in front of her she instinctively took the bouquet from him and lifted it up so she could inhale their scent. “Thank you, Connor.”

His little chest puffed out, “You’re welcome.” The smile across his face grew wider as he offered the balloon.

Felicity hunched down, so she could be eye level with the boy. “Are you sure? Batman is super cool and balloons are awesome.”

He bit his lower lip and nodded. “For you,” he insisted shoving the ribbon into hand. She gazed up at the balloon, “Best gift ever,” she told him and he preened a little more before remembering he had one last gift for her.

“Dad,” he scolded waving his father forward. “The candy.”

Holding back a chuckle, Felicity rose from her crouched position and looked directly into Oliver Queen’s eyes, which was a mistake because looking at him from a distance had already short-circuited her brain and up close he was prettier.

It didn’t dawn her that the gorgeous man in front of her was gazing back at her until Connor nudge his hip. “You’re supposed to give her the candy.”

“Right, of course,” he huffed out a laugh and held out the box as his son instructed.

Felicity reached out to take the box and her finger brushed his, sending a jolt through her and she could feel the color on her cheeks deepening because of it. She dropped her gaze from his as she stepped back, holiday booty in hand. “This is so thoughtful Connor. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“A kiss.”

“Con,” his father warned him.

“Grammy Moira and Aunt Thea always kiss me when I give them a gift.” It occurred to Felicity then that that might have been her young student’s goal all along. Looking at him now she could see the adoration on his face. Connor had a crush on her and wanted a kiss.

“I … well.” Flustered and torn, because she really did want to kiss his adorable little nose, she looked at the only other adult in the room for some sort of direction as she never dealt with a situation like this before.

Oliver Queen wore his son’s matching smile and shrugged shoulders, “He’s incorrigible. I apologize.”

“No, no. That’s fine. This is really so sweet and it doesn’t surprise me that Connor would be so thoughtful. He’s a great kid,” at the comment she saw Connor frown.

“The best,” Oliver concurred, grasping his shoulder. The frown didn’t completely disappear from Connor’s face, but he did brighten under his father’s words.

Before she could over analyze her actions or the repercussions Felicity leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Connor’s forehead. “Thank you.”

His face went magenta and he ducked behind his father, leaving only his head in her view. “You … you’re welcome,” he pushed out before running to his cubby to deposit his coat and bag.

“You’ve just made his day and probably his week,” Oliver stated. “Thank you.”

“Not necessary Mr. Queen, he certainly made mine.”

“Oliver.”

“Um … sorry?”

“You can call me Oliver,” he said and much like his son had earlier he shuffled his feet nervously. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name Connor is always going on about.”

It sent a thrill through her, knowing that child shed cared about so much felt the same for her. Now if only she could make her brain work in front of his father. Felicity couldn’t help but be grateful now that Connor’s grandmother had come in on parent/teacher night – Oliver had been out of town on business – a because she was absolutely certain she would have made a fool of herself. “It’s good to know I’m making an impression. Hopefully it’s a positive one.”

“It is,” he assured her, “positive I mean. It’s not all video games and rough housing; he actually wants to read now.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m … “ she tried to think of something intelligent or even appropriate to say but nothing came to mind. Feeling the weight of gifts in her hands she went with, “I should probably put these away before the rest of the students arrive.”

“Not going to share your candy with the class?” Felicity could see the humor in his eyes, hear the teasing in his tone and felt completely out of her depth. Was he flirting with her? In any other circumstance a handsome, unattached (at least she assumed that since there was no wedding ring on his finger) man flirting with her would be nice. Really nice. But he was her favorite student’s father, and said student had a crush on her. None of that was appropriate. Right?

“I baked. I mean, I made them the cookies. Healthy cookies mind you, oatmeal cranberry. I thought about going gluten free but none of the kids have allergies and I know they asked for peanut butter cookies but I’m allergic. I would have needed a hazmat suit to make them. And—”

“Felicity, I mean Miss Smoak.”

“Felicity is fine. I mean, if you want me to call you Oliver you can call me Felicity.” And yeah, totally _not_ appropriate but the fact that she could get actual words out of her mouth felt like a win.

He beamed down her; his smile radiated such warmth, that she felt her skin heating. “Felicity,” he said her name softly, almost reverently. “Would you—”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by the sounding of the bell. It was the ten minute warning to teachers, school doors would officially open in five minutes and the students would have another ten minutes to get in and make their way to their classrooms.

“I really should get these in some water.”

“Of course. Happy Valentine’s Day Felicity.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day …” she paused to remind herself not to call him Mr. Queen, “Oliver.”


	2. Right Back Where We Started From

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity time travel (tie in with the flash maybe) a Olicity get a visit from their teenage children from the future, maybe Sara Diggle can be there too! requested by anonymous.

On a scale from one to ten Sara Diggle figured she screwed up by about a hundred and fifty. Why her father thought it was a good idea to leave her in charge of twin super geniuses was beyond her, because Thomas and Deardra Queen had been running circles around her since they were five-year-olds. Instructing her to watch the now thirteen year-old pair while visiting STAR Labs had disaster written all over it, but John Diggle had faith in his daughter, or so he told her.

It wasn’t that she got talked into allowing Tommy and Dee to explore the sectioned off storage at STAR Labs, but rather she’d got corralled into following them because they would not listen to reason. Like their mother they had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and a curiosity that could never be assuaged. She could blame their being there on them, but it had been her own interest in Eobard Thawne’s (aka the Reverse Flash) time machine had them all climbing into the vehicle. And of course Tommy had been unable to resist a whole panel of buttons. She’d just been telling him not to touch them, when he pressed down, causing lights to flash and klaxon like noises to sound.

“That’s not a good sound,” Dee remarked as Tommy shot them an apologetic look that was tinged with excitement.

“I’m—”

“Don’t!” Sara cut him off. “You’re not sorry.”

“Guys,” Dee interjected, pointing through a window – what could be consider the windshield – where the world outside swirled.

“Crap!” she groaned. This was not going to end well. She was definitely grounded until she turned eighteen. Though if that meant not having to babysit the Queen twins for two years Sara almost welcomed the punishment.

“I _really_ am sorry, Sara,” Tommy insisted coming to hover over his sister. He was three minutes older and took his big brother responsibility seriously, a trait their Aunt Thea insisted he inherited from his father.

“Save it for the ‘rents,” she told him.

“Maybe I should push another—”

“Don’t even think about it,” she shouted, with a not so gentle smack to the back of his head. “That’s what got us into this mess.”

While the world continued to spin in swirls of color that would make Dali proud, with lights and alarms sounding inside the vessel, Dee cleaned off the console. The readings on it looked like gibberish to Sara, but she could tell by the way her young friend’s brow furled that Dee was putting the pieces together. “We’re gonna be in so much trouble,” she announced just before everything around them suddenly stopped.

“Holy shit,” Tommy exclaimed.

“Language,” Sara warned. He simply lifted her chin so her focus was not on the console under Dee’s fingers but rather on what was out the windshield. There were three people standing prone – two of them armed – one with a gun and the other with a bow and arrow. Though they were younger than she’d ever seen them with her own eyes Sara recognized them. “Holy shit,” she said breathlessly. They were in _so much_ trouble.

***

They argued about it for five minutes, but when her dad shot an arrow at the corner of the windshield cracking it, they decided getting out and explaining the situation was their best option. Tommy couldn’t recall exactly what button he pushed and she didn’t know how to program their return trip – she had a hunch, but she’d feel better about it if her mother confirmed her hypothesis.

“Remember they’re our parents, but you know _not_ ,” Sara said as they huddled near the doorway of the machine. “We need to suss out if they’ve met Barry yet.”

“And if he’s gotten his powers,” Tommy reminded them.

“Right. Do either of you remember when Barry told them about time travel?” She and her brother shook their heads no in tandem to Sara’s question. “Wonderful,” she puffed out. “If they know Wells is Thawne then time travel should have come into play. The important thing is we can’t let them know we’re their kids.”

“Are we sure it works that way?” Tommy inquired.

“Do you want to risk being erased like Marty McFly in _Back to the Future_? Or changing the future? The repercussions alone,” Sara trailed off pulling her fingers through her hair, making her agitation clear.

Dee nudged her brother, “This is not some cool science trip Tommy. No geeking out. We need to get in and out quickly without raising any suspicions. Got it?” she asked pointedly.

“Loud and clear,” he promised, crossing his heart. “Sara’s in charge and we follow her lead.”

“I’ll believe that if it ever actually happens,” Sara muttered opening the door into the past.

***

It was weird seeing her dad look at her with distrust. The gun aimed at her wasn’t a picnic either, but when the collective gaze that was Team Arrow took in their age, her father lowered his weapon. Her uncle, however, did not. Trust issues, Sara reminded herself.

“Hi,” she greeted, with a half-hearted wave. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Tommy and Dee wave as well. As they did so her aunt reached out and tugged on her uncle’s arm, trying to get him to lower his bow. When he didn’t Felicity huffed and stepped forward between the two men who had flanked her in protective positioning, some things Sara learned would never change.

“Hello,” she replied with a friendly smile and her own wave. Sara could barely hear the growled, “Felicity,” Oliver released, but it was impossible to miss how Felicity rolled her eyes. They were so them, she thought, but not really because her uncle would never threaten her. In fact, when they got back to the future and he had the memory of this encounter she was fairly certain he’d be angry at himself for his actions.

Having that conversation would be much more pleasant than the talking to her father would give her. Sara’s gaze traveled back to him, the warmth and love she was used to seeing shining out from his dark eyes was not there and the twinge she felt at him not recognizing her hurt in a way that she didn’t think she could ever put into words.

They all stood there, staring at each other, until Dee poked her. Sara glared back at her, but at the significant look her friend shot her she realized that silence would not get them what they needed it. “Sorry,” she mouthed before turning back to their parents. “So,” she started for a lack of a better option, “you’ve met Barry Allen, right?”

“Yes,” Felicity answered. At her quick reply, her uncle tensed even further. Sara decided to concentrate on her aunt because looking at her father hurt and she couldn’t allow the intimating version of Oliver Queen – and yes, she finally understood why criminals were terrified of him – she’d always seen him as a gruff teddy bear. She didn’t exactly enjoy knowing better now.

“And you’ve worked with the Flash?” she asked hopefully.

Sara saw concern flash across Felicity’s face, but she nodded affirmative to her question. “And he’s explained about time travel?”

Felicity’s jaw dropped, “As in wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey travel through the space-time continuum? Like that’s an actual thing? Without a TARDIS. Wait? Is that a TARDIS?” Her father shook his head in exasperation, while her uncle let out another warning “Felicity” while beside her the twins chuckled.

“She’s really always done that,” Tommy remarked, his voice filled with awe.

Her father step forward, “Mirakuru soldiers and metahumans are one thing but you’re asking us to believe in time travel. As in you’re from the future and this is the past time travel?”

“Your present our past, well not _ours_ since technically we haven’t been born yet … unless maybe Sa—“

“Shut it,” Sara snapped.

“It’s all present.” When the room’s collective gaze hit Dee she shrugged. “We’re all experiencing it together at the same time, so it’s our present.”

“I need to see the math to back that up,” Tommy replied.

“I doubt the equation has been dreamed up yet. Something to work on when we get home,” Dee suggested.

“Enough geniuses,” she barked. “Look we just want to get home and we were hoping you’d be willing to help us, Felicity.”

“Me?” she squeaked. “Until a minute ago I thought time travel was theoretical, not a real thing.”

“We still don’t know that it’s real,” Oliver interjected.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, Starling City vigilante known as the Arrow. You were shipwrecked on an island for five years or at least that’s the official story. You spent a year in Hong Kong—“

“Enough,” he seethed, pulling the arrow tight in his bow.

“Enough is right,” Felicity snapped. “They’re kids Oliver, whether they’re delusional or not – and seeing how a ship just appeared before us in our secret lair I’m guessing they’re not – they’re children so you will stop aiming that arrow at them or—”

“Or what, Felicity?” he challenged back.

“Or you can find yourself new technical support, Mister,” she threatened. Her uncle released a long suffering sigh, before lowering his bow. Sara felt the tension around the room ease and silently thanked whatever deity was out there for the turn of events in their favor.

***

He’d always known his mother was wicked smart, but getting to work with her as an equal and not a mother trying to instruct her son, allowed him a greater appreciation for her; especially with his father looming over them as they worked. How she managed to get anything done with his overbearing presence was a mystery. Tommy planned on telling her so first thing, and who knew, perhaps that would save him from having to experience her loud voice. Though he doubted it.

From outside the vehicle he could feel Sara’s impatient gaze and the skeptical eye of her father. It was odd experiencing a not self-assured John Diggle. His uncle always seemed so wise and knew how to handle every situation. Must be a parent trick, as he was sure his father often wasn’t sure how to handle them, but always managed to seem like he did.

“You really shouldn’t push buttons wily-nily,” his mother scolded.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Repeatedly,” Dee remarked, as only a smart-aleck little sister could.

“Well if we’re interpreting all of this correctly, you should be set for a trip back home.”

“Thanks, M—“ Dee stomped on his foot. Tommy shot her a withering glare before, strangling out the word, “Madam.”

“Felicity, please,” she requested smiling up at him.

“Yeah, no that’s not going to happen. How about Mrs. Queen?” When her eyes popped huge behind her glasses, he quickly corrected, “Sorry, Smoak-Queen. You hyphenate like Iris.”

“She what?” his father strangled out.

Realizing his mistake Tommy paled. “I mean … well I just … you’re not …” he looked desperately at his sister to save him from his gaffe, but she had buried her head in her hands.

“Pure speculation,” Sara said swooping in with the save. Well possible save, because neither of his parents seemed to comprehend the idea that they were or could possibly be married. To each other. Like that was a real thing.

“If you say so,” Diggle scoffed, clearly believing that his friends would end up married.

“Right, well,” Sara said trying to move things along, “we should get going. So …” she gestured to removal of his parents from the machine.

“Right! Of course,” his mother chirped standing up and grabbing his father’s arm. She tugged him along a few steps before realizing what she was doing. When she did she released him and stepped quickly away from him and out of the vehicle. She took up residency slightly behind his uncle, using him like a shield. “Good luck and safe travels,” she offered as his father exited the vehicle looking anywhere but at his mother.

Tommy couldn’t help but worry that he’d just squashed a butterfly that would end up causing a hurricane or something to that consequence as the quantum butterfly effect proposed though it was hard to recall exactly because he’d let the cat out of the bag and he was silently praying that he hadn’t just changed the future.

“Thank you,” Sara said replied, shutting the door. “Dee get us home,” she instructed. “And you _bonehead_ , mouth shut and fingers off.”

He nodded. That was his new motto. In fact, he would have told Sara that if keeping his mouth shut wasn’t his new thing. Dee activated the machine and once again lights and sounds sounded and the world outside swirled.

When it stopped they were back at STAR Labs and three familiar faces – his mother, his father, and his uncle – were outside waiting for them with arms crossed and stern looks.


	3. Hip Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Oliver takes Felicity to a hockey game. She gets waaaay more into it than he anticipated and maybe it leads to sue cute skating lessons :D requested by msdanvers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG LOKE I LOVE YOU! I'm hockey obsessed and thinking about hockey and _Arrow_ together made me flail like a crazed fangirl. You are the bestest internet wife a girl could have. 
> 
> No actual cute skating lesson, but it is implied that it will happen, so hopefully that is good enough. 
> 
> And, yes, I made Oliver's favorite baseball team, my team. Deal with it folks. LOL! ;)

He had cajoled Felicity endlessly until she acquiesced and agreed to attend one of the Starling City Rockets home games. To say that he was thrilled to be introducing the love of his life to his favorite sport was an understatement. He had played the sport throughout most of high school, at least until his partying ways interfered with practice. His last name hadn’t prevented his coach from removing him from the team, and rightfully so, but even his dismissal from the team could not dampen his affinity for the sport.

Attending a Rockets game was a luxury he hadn’t allowed himself after his return from the island. He had followed the ups and down of the team, but to actually attend a game seemed frivolous and inconsequential when put up against his nighttime activities. During their summer away he’d begun reclaiming parts of himself, allowing himself small indulgences that he hadn’t in the past. One such indulgence was sports, particularly his favorites: hockey and baseball.

The hot days of summer were the antithesis of hockey, so he’d thrown himself in baseball catching up with the sport for the first time in eight years. He had a new favorite player, third baseman Josh Donaldson from the Toronto Blue Jays and new favorite team, the Pittsburgh Pirates. He even managed to sweet talk Felicity into a game, but other than the food and singing during the seventh inning stretch she’d hadn’t been into it. “Sports just aren’t my thing,” she commented as they left, and while they hadn’t attended another game, she had never complained when he turned one on to watch. Felicity would tuck herself into his side, either with her tablet in hand or a book. She’d celebrate with him enthusiastically after a game if the team he was rooting for won and tease him about his “grumpy cat face” if they lost.

The lackluster time she had at the baseball game was probably the reason why she’d suggested taking Thea or his new campaign manager to attend the Rockets game when he first asked, but he kept insisting because he wanted to share everything with her. It had finally taken him promising that he wouldn’t insist on her attending more than one game of any sport for her to agree. He loved that Felicity was willing to try things for him, even if it was something so outside of her wheelhouse.

He’d been so ecstatic about her agreement that the day after she said yes Oliver went out and purchased them jerseys and hats to wear to the game, and since Felicity tended to get cold easily he also got her a Rockets hoodie. She had shaken her head and smiled at him when he presented her with the apparel and tickets for the game the following week, prompting him to promise, “You’ll have a great time.”

***

Heading into the second period Oliver marveled at how Felicity responded to the game. During warm-ups, she’d pouted at the cool air in the arena, but had been content to curl up into his side to keep warm. He had gone to stand in line for food when the teams left the ice and made it back during the singing of the anthems. When they finished, Felicity introduced him to the lanky teen who’d taken up residency on her other side and he found the heart eyes the kid was throwing at her kind of adorable. Still he kissed her soundly, making his claim, before he greeted him.

While they got the food situated before the puck drop, Henry “my friends call me Hank” explained that his family had been coming to games since before the NHL hung the protective netting. As the on-ice action started the teen took Felicity under his wing, explaining the in the ins and out of the game – the purpose of the red lines, how icings and off-sides were called, and the slang terms that were specific to hockey itself like the Gordie Howe hat trick. “That’s when a player gets a goal, an assist, and a fight in a game,” Hank explained.

Oliver commented that one of his proudest moments as a teenager had been completing the GH trick himself. Felicity had been nodding along; her eyes watching the puck glide up and down the ice when it finally clicked for her. “Fight?” she questioned, clearly doubtful. “You mean actual fisticuffs while in ice skates? And they just don’t fall flat on their faces?”

Hank let out a full belly chuckle at Felicity’s question and Oliver couldn’t help but grin. “Yes,” he answered, “though some guys don’t always manage to stay on their feet.”

“True enough, and sometimes it can lead to a line brawl,” the teen informed her, his green eyes going bright at the thought. “That’s when all the players on the ice – save the goalies – get involved. If a player comes off the bench to join the melee, he gets himself and his coach into some serious trouble. Now if a goalie wants to stop the mayhem all he has to do is get the other goalie to go. To fight,” he clarified because Felicity was looking at him wide eyed, as if she was having trouble computing his word. “It’s rare for goalies to fight, so when they tangle it brings everything to halt.”

Further explanation was halted with the other team scored the first goal of the game and the crowd around them groaned.

***

She sat tense, as on the edge of her seat as arena seating allowed, her blue eyes fighting to watch the puck glide across the ice and not the rapidly depleting seconds ticking away on the scoreboard above them. Her plush lower lip was caught in her teeth and her small hand clutched his tightly, her knuckles going white. Oliver was so in tune with her that he heard the catch of her breath over the cheering crowd as they spurred the Rockets on in the dying seconds of the game. With two seconds left it happened.

With the goalie pulled, their star forward duked the defense and slid the puck pass the goalie. The entire arena erupted as the goal tied the game, ensuring overtime with all but the bare minimum amount of game time left on the clock.

Beside him he watched in awed amusement as Felicity leapt out of her seat – dragging him with her – whooping with the crowd, her arms gyrating above her head as she expressed her pleasure at seeing the team edge ever closer to a comeback win. The boy to her left, who had clearly been crushing on her the entire game, nudged her excitedly and signaled for a high-five. Delight rippled across her face as she angled the upper half of her body to comply with the celebratory request.

Oliver couldn’t help the bemused chuckle he released at the sound of their hands slapping. It brought Felicity’s attention back to him; she beamed up at him, before winding her arms around him in an exuberant hug. She pushed herself up on her toes, rested her chin just above his Bravta tattoo, and confided, “I may like hockey. Just a _little_ bit.”

Her tone was teasing, her eyes were dancing with merriment and if he hadn’t been completely done for when it came to one Felicity Megan Smoak already, he would be now. “Just a little,” he agreed his tone serious but he knew the grin he wore – it was so big his cheeks actually hurt – let her know his mood mirrored hers.

He swooped down to kiss her, the crowd around them still on their feet as the referees dropped the puck for the final two seconds of the third period.

***

They had raced home after the game – the Rockets won 2-1 in overtime – and the second they were alone behind closed doors they’d been all hands and mouths, removing each other’s clothes in a hurried haphazard way. He’d barely gotten her to the couch before he was sinking into her warmth and the excitement in her eyes was about _them_ and not the first sporting event she attended and enjoyed.

Later, much later, with limbs tangled and their breathing in sync and easy she told him that she couldn’t wait to go to another game with him. He replied that he couldn’t wait to get her into a pair of skates and on the ice with him.

A dubious look marred her face. “I’ve never skated before. I’ll probably fall. A lot.”

He kissed the frown from her face, “And I’ll always catch you.”


	4. With a Gun and Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity prompt. Bravta au requested by l-i-v-e-u-r-l-i-f-e1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never written an _Arrow_ Bratva AU before. I was terrified and then I went dark with it – like **really** dark and well ... sorry.

The pulsing music of the club grated on his nerves. Oliver hated being here, the work it entailed, it made him sick. If he didn’t owe his very existence to Anatoly Knyazev he wouldn’t be there. He tried to sweet-talk their doctor, and when that hadn’t worked he got her off, hoping that would convince her to give him a clean bill of health even though they both knew otherwise. She promised on his next checkup – two days from now – she’d sign off on him going back “into the field” as his captain referred to it.

He took a small sip of the top-shelf vodka he’d been nursing for an hour. The one time he allowed himself to get buzzed he’d done more than play the uncatchable bait and indulged in the “product.” His stomach twisted at the term that was applied to the girls that a handful of selected soldiers got to sample and grade – if they passed, and most of them did, they were abducted and weaved into the Bratva’s sex trade.

Every few months Oliver would carefully check in on the raven-haired beauty he’d taken home that night, verifying the she was tucked into her high-end, generic apartment safe and sound. Each time he saw that she was still securely ensconced there a sense of relief flooded him. It was not a sentiment he could explain or share with any of his colleagues.

He doubted anyone would understand that washing blood from his hands and silencing the screams he tortured out men with intense exercise that made him so physically exhausted he could do nothing but sleep was easier than thinking about the condemned innocent women trapped in the Bratva’s sex-trade. He’d been a brother once, completely devoted to a cherubic imp, and to this day he had never loved anyone like he had his little sister, Thea – not even their parents. One horrible afternoon he lost them all and there were days, too many to count, when he cursed fate for not taking him with them.

That he was allowed to live, to become the weapon Anatoly crafted, when their goodness had been snuffed out made no sense to Oliver. But he knew the world was not fair, or kind, or hopeful. It was the darkness he lived in; it was violence, blood, and cruelty. Oliver had accepted that fact long ago as he lost parts of his soul, piece by piece, with every act he performed at Anatoly’s request.

Oliver knew the day would come when nothing bothered him. When he didn’t feel the need to cleanse himself multiple times after a night’s work. When he wouldn’t care about what happened to the women in club. When that day came, he a bullet with his name on it, waiting for him.

Lately, it felt like that day was edging ever closer.

“We have a problem,” a deep voice with a thick Russian accent said. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver took in the bulky, tattooed solider. Evgeni was a decent fellow. Strong, but not overly intelligent and completely loyal, which is why Anatoly kept him on bodywork. The man would gladly give his life to protect whoever was under his charge. At the moment he was babysitting Anatoly’s spoiled nephew Vladislav.

Oliver was pretty certain the only person who didn’t mind having Vladislav Knyazev in Starling was Evgeni. Protecting their captain’s blood family was a point of pride for him.

For his part, Oliver had done his best to avoid the young ne'er-do-well as much as he could. It was only in the last few weeks, because his injury was keeping him out of the field that he’d been subjected to his presence. Vladislav loved the club and “sampling the wears” as he jokingly called it. The first time he heard him speak like that it took everything in him not attack the man and wipe the lurid look off his face.

Touching Vladislav would be signing his own death warrant, which wasn’t what Oliver found objectionable. No, it was the painful lesson that would need to be meted out on his flesh before he’d be granted the release of death that allowed him to stay his hand.

He spun his glass of vodka on the bar and asked, “What is it?”

“The blonde with the shadow,” Evgeni answered with a nod to the petite woman at the end of the bar. He’d seen her when she come in, bright lips and a colorful dress, with a dark skinned man hovering nearby. She hadn’t sought out attention like so many of the women who came into the club. She sat, lost in her tablet, sipping red wine.

“Vlad,” and Evgeni couldn’t help preening a bit at being able to refer to the young buck by his nickname, “wants her.”

His gut twisted at the words. “That would be a mistake,” he said coolly, doing his best to keep his tone neutral and not hint at the disgust he felt for Vladislav.

“Da. Which is why I come to you. Use that pretty face and get her out of here before there is trouble.”

He managed not to cringe at the suggestion. If he left with her, Oliver knew he’d be expected to report on her and his skin crawled at the mere idea of it. It wasn’t just that she didn’t fit the profile with a bodyguard in tow, but the fact that even from a distance purity shined out from her. The thought of anything tarnishing it, of anyone defiling her, had rage seething through his bloodstream.

Though it went against his better judgement, Oliver nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

***

Vibrant blue eyes had gone wide upon taking him in. Her soft voice had babbled – with intelligence, humor, and innuendo. Soft, pale skin turned pink as she blushed. _Felicity_. It was fitting somehow that the name of the gorgeous woman before him meant intense happiness because he could not help but feel delight in her presence. Her golden hair had a citrusy scent making him think of sunshine. And her soft curves made him think other things – things Oliver could not afford to consider seriously.

Everything about her was light and he was darkness, and though he felt the need to stay in her presence growing, he knew the only thing he could offer her was lies and pain. He kept reminding himself of that as he charmed her into having a late dinner with him, escorting her safely out of the club and from the possessive eye of Vladislav.

Over dim sum he actually found himself relaxing. Enjoying the easy, teasing and flirtatious conversation that flowed between them without any awkward pauses or uncomfortable silences. The longer he was with her the lighter Oliver felt. He could all but feel her seeping inside him, casting the shadows inside his soul aside and illuminating what little pieces were left.

Upon walking Felicity to her door Oliver could not deny himself the temptation of her lips. They were warm and the gloss on them allowed his lips to glide over them easily. At her small gasp he sunk into mouth and tangled his tongue with hers. Her painted nails dug into his shoulders and he reveled in the bite of them through his suit jacket.

He cupped her faced because he actually craved the feel of her skin against his and he knew he would not allow himself more than her cheek in his hands. He didn’t even deserve that but the lure of her was too much to deny himself.

He rested his forehead against her as their lips parted. The breathless way she sighed his named made his heart clench and he growled out her name, “Fe-lic-i-ty.”

More than anything he wanted to stay. For a drink, for the night, forever. But she stepped back into her open doorway without inviting him in. Instead she asked if he was free for dinner the next day. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to answer no, to leave and never think about her again; but his heart, which had been cold and silent for so long demanded the opposite response. He replied in the affirmative before reason could prevent him the opportunity of seeing her again. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

***

That night had started it; she started it, the change within him. He’d been a ruthless killer, hollow and empty going through the motions of life waiting for it to end bloody. He didn’t pull an immediate one-eighty, it was a slower process than that – minute by minute, choice by choice – over the course of months as he fell deeper and deeper into her, into love, he became human again.

What he had been disgusted him. What he continued to do because he was trapped sickened him. He was a better man now, he owed to himself and Felicity to act accordingly.

He’d seen only one option to be a man worthy of her, to have any chance to even attempt to right the wrongs he'd done in the name of the Bratva. Oliver had foolishly believed that he could bring the criminal syndicate down. He hadn’t known that he could still be capable of such naivety and it cost him. _So much_. The most important thing in his world.

He always knew his life would end in blood, at the end of a knife or a gun, but he hadn’t anticipated that his blood would mingle with the rich red of another’s. That with his last breaths he would be expressing his remorse and his love. Those were things the Bratva had stripped him of, things that Felicity had gifted him with – they were precious and horrible, not because he was dying and no longer welcomed it, but because she was dying beside him.

His death had always been a forgone conclusion, but hers … he’d give anything to see her live, for her to shine on forever, bright and beautiful and just so Felicity. Her last words were a whispered, “Love you.”

Oliver gave himself over to the darkness, his last thought … _I love you, I love you, I love you_ …


	5. Golden Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt pic requested by alexandracheers.
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> Photo by: [taylergolden](https://instagram.com/taylergolden/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this took a turn I wasn’t anticipating.

It had been his favorite picture. Baby Felicity curled on her mother’s chest, Donna’s hair long and wavy; her tanned arm lovingly draped over her daughter’s tiny shoulders and behind the golden hair duo the ocean appeared calm, as if the waves themselves were soft and lulling, offering a gentle sound to keep the infant comfortably asleep. Felicity’s hair had matched her mother’s then; it was practically white blonde, before it had darkened in her early childhood years. The cream shade of the papoose Felicity was being carried in made both mother’s and daughter’s skin glow.

Serenity. That is what shone out of the captured moment in time, what pulled his eyes towards the photograph every time he entered the bedroom they now shared. No matter what emotional upheaval he might be feeling, looking at that picture calmed him … and then he would see her little foot peeking out from underneath the cloth.

Five perfect little toes, flared out, with the middle one slightly bent. Oliver couldn’t say why seeing that tiny foot after the picture steadied him always brought a smile to his face, but it did. Felicity, even tiny baby Felicity, with her head tucked where he couldn’t glimpse her gorgeous blue eyes always affected him for the better, made his world a little brighter. She was sunshine, his own personal ray of hope, one that could reach into him whether she was right there in front of him or in a picture on his desk.

And even though he had pictures of the two of them together, her joy and love for him clearly on display, it was the picture with her mother that he cherished the most; perhaps because he could so clearly imagine recreating it one day with Felicity holding _their_ child.

That’s why finding the beloved picture hidden in Damien Darhk’s desk chilled him the bone.

The image that soothed him over and over again, the one he pictured having in his future … this copy was faded slightly, but carefully framed and protectively tucked away in desk of one of, if not the most, dangerous man on the planet. That Darhk could possibly have any claim on Felicity turned his stomach. She was joy and laughter, goodness and brilliance, _everything_ bright and right in the world.

Oliver knew what the picture could mean, and he also knew he could not and would not allow it – Damien Darhk would not corrupt Felicity. He could not tarnish one aspect of her. He wouldn’t allow it.

Though it would make his trespass known, Oliver claimed the photograph with an unsteady hand. It was just a picture, but even that he _needed_ to protect.


	6. This is Not High School Musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity prompt: high school au. oliver the big boy and felicity the good girl. Fall in love married, have kids. She breaks up a fight or something that's how they met requested by anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got away from me. _Wildly_.

His best friend was kissing his girlfriend. The shock of it had Oliver freezing. Granted Laurel’s lips devouring Tommy’s was not instigated by his closest friend in the world. Laurel was the one who had stomped away from him, her green eyes wet with unshed tears and her face red from their argument about his cheating, and laid one on Tommy. Oliver knew dabbling with the cheerleaders who threw themselves at the star quarterback was wrong since he had a girlfriend, one he professed to love – he did love Laurel, but the way a guy “loves” a girl he’s known most of his life, cares about, and is super attracted to – not in the starry-eyed soulmate way his little sister dreamily teased him about.

He understood he was a bad boyfriend, probably the worst, but he was a loyal and devoted friend and Tommy, his best buddy since kindergarten hadn’t ended the kisses when the shock wore off, he deepened it. Pulling Laurel close into his body, so there was no space between them.

That betrayal of their friendship hurt. Instead of turning away and going off somewhere to brood and sulk, his usual modus operandi when it came to emotions he either didn’t want to acknowledge or wasn’t sure how to handle; he stalked over to the kissing couple, tore Tommy from Laurel and punched him square in the face.

They tussled for a few minutes, some of the party crowd around them shouting “Fight!” excitedly, while some of their teammates tried half-heartedly to pull them off of each other. Diggle managed to pull him back, but Oliver was still straining forward trying to prolong the fight while Tommy panted, hands on his knees, Laurel standing next to him looking confused, angry and hurt. Suddenly there was a petite frame between him and Tommy; just barely over five feet of curves and sunshine hair, that he was vaguely aware had been dark and streaked with purple at the beginning of the school year.

“STOP,” she ordered, her voice loud her tone so sharp and reminiscent of a reprimanding teacher that everyone in the room actually listened. The only sounds were harsh breathing and the thrum of the music blaring from the living room. “If you really need to be neanderthals you can do it outside where you’re not destroying others property. Now unless you want me to call the cops to breakup this shindig you’ll all get back to your underage drinking, dubious flirting, and random hooking up without further damage.” She had raised an eyebrow during her speech, casting a pointed look over the group that had circled the fight. A few people looked properly chastised but being the ass that he was, Carter Bowen blew a raspberry and scoffed a “Whatever,” before dragging the poor girl that was his date for the evening away.

The rest of the group started to disperse as the buzz of conversation started up. Diggle’s grip on him loosened and his large frame stepped in front of him. He could see his friend smiling down at the girl, “Nicely done Smoak.” Oliver finally placed her when Dig spoke her last name. Felicity Smoak, the genius who had skipped a few grades and was set to matriculate with their class, though there was talk she’d graduate early because MIT had offered her a full ride and a spot starting spring semester. And he only knew that because Coach Wilson bemoaned the fact that the team’s tutor would be leaving them, and he’d been making the case not to let that happened before the season was over.

She beamed back at him, “You’re welcome Dig, and while I appreciate the invite this is _so_ not my scene.”

“Thursday after practice?” he asked.

“I’ll be here with my books,” she confirmed, squeezing his arm. As she walked pass she shot him glance, he saw curiosity and disapproval in her bright blue eyes, before she quickly looked away with a shake of her head.

Bothered, but not sure why, Oliver clapped Diggle on the shoulder. “Sorry about the mess, just let me know how much and I’ll replace what was broken.” Before Diggle could reply, he turned and exited his friend’s home, leaving the party and gossip behind.

***

The Monday following the party he got called into the coach’s office. He’d heard about the incident and wasn’t pleased that his men were fighting amongst themselves. He was also unhappy that Oliver’s grades had him dangerously close to being shelved. “I can’t force you and Merlyn to make up and play nice, but you will be respectful of my field and leave your personal issues off of it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, his tone a little surly. The coach glared at him, hard, but made no further comment on his attitude.

“You’ll also start seeing the tutor.”

“Coach—” he started to object.

“Your first session is this afternoon. Being there is _not_ optional, Queen.”

Oliver bit back his protest and nodded his understanding. He wasn’t talking to his best friend, he no longer had a girlfriend, and now he had to deal with actual studying – with the egghead of Starling Prep. Life was just not fair.

***

Felicity had been appalled at his study habits, which were non-existent, and his clavier attitude towards acquiring knowledge. She had soldiered on through their Monday afternoon session and seeing that it wouldn’t be nearly enough, suggested he’d join her and Dig on Thursday. Oliver figured he could half-ass it with her attention on Diggle and since that was usually date night with Laurel (as games were on Friday) he liked the thought of not having to spend his first Thursday without a girlfriend at loose ends.

It hadn’t worked out the way he anticipated though. Apparently Diggle stopped needing the focused help Felicity provided a while ago, but since the team paid for her services, he kept their sessions up so she could save money. “Scholarships don’t pay for everything,” he remarked. They were also friends. Actual friends, with inside jokes and a quick zinger interplay that Oliver found entertaining. At least until they got down to the business of studying, with Diggle working on his own, Felicity was free to be his taskmaster.

After a frustrating hour of not getting anywhere, Felicity suggested a break and some fresh air. Though their muscles were strained from practice he and Dig agreed to walk to a nearby convenience store for some unhealthy snacks. Along the way Felicity kept chattering and would occasionally ask some ridiculous questions. It wasn’t until they got back to Dig’s house and they were crunching down on the sea salt and vinegar potato chips the coach would not approve of with his head back in a book that he realized what happened. Everything he’d been struggling to read through Felicity had imparted on their voyage to and from the store. The things he hadn’t been grasping were now firmly lodged in his brain. He actually knew the answers to his homework assignment. Stunned, he looked up at Felicity. She blushed and graced him with a shy smile. “Good now?” she asked.

Not knowing what else to do Oliver nodded and started writing out the answers on his worksheet.

For the next month that’s how he spent every Monday and Thursday, talking with Felicity, absorbing the knowledge she shared in her odd, roundabout way. Oliver wasn’t sure if was the cadence in her voice or how she said things, because he started paying attention in class and while he picked things up listening to his teachers, it was never as quickly or easily done as it was when it was Felicity talking. His grades which had been barely acceptable began to raise and their history teacher, Mr. Steele, gave him the first ‘A’ he ever received on a test. On the back of it he wrote: “ _I’m pleased to you see you’re taking your academics seriously now Mr. Queen. Like with all things effort reaps rewards.”_

He had been so proud of the grade that when he spotted Felicity in the hallway he swept her up into an exuberant hug, surprising her and everyone else. She let out a laugh and patted his shoulder, “It’s nice to see you Oliver but I like breathing.”

He flushed slightly and dropped her gently back to the ground, “Sorry,” he huffed as he shoved the now crinkled test into her hands. Felicity smoothed out the paper and upon seeing his grade bounced on her toes. “Awesome job,” she said nudging him. “I knew you could do it, Oliver.”

And she had, it occurred to him. Felicity had believed that he wasn’t incapable of learning and somehow known or figured out that he learned in a different way. Instead of making a big deal out of it, she’d quietly gone about helping him, and gifted him with the knowledge he was in fact a reasonably intelligent human being and that gaining knowledge could be enjoyable. “Not without you,” he said with all the appreciation he felt not only for her time and effort, but her friendship.

***

As October faded into November and the season hit the critical time of year Oliver felt the attention of the entire school on him. He had the chance to break district and state records if the team kept performing well, his teachers had begun to expected and encourage his participation in class, and he was nominated for the school’s winter wonderland king and it could all end up being very awkward as Laurel was one of the nominees for queen. He’d already heard a few snide comments about her becoming a Queen one way or another. Oliver had gritted his teeth and dug his nails into his palms every time he heard it because no matter how things ended between them Laurel Lance was not that. She was an honest, genuine person with a good heart and sharp mind. Her mistake had been falling for him, because as he’d slowly come to understand, wanting a friend with benefits wasn’t the same thing as wanting a real romantic entanglement.

Oliver had wanted someone to fool around with that he liked and could have a good time with when they weren’t busy putting their overactive teenage hormones to good use. Laurel had wanted more, and he tried, but as his less than devoted boyfriend actions proved he wasn’t up for or capable of giving her what she wanted. It was a lesson hard learnt as it cost him his friendship with Laurel, her sister Sara, and most painful of all, Tommy.

His closer friendship with Diggle, his developing one with Felicity, and the occasional time spent with various cheerleaders that expected no more than a vigorous evening of fun kept him from mourning their loss too much. But as the weather cooled into what passed for winter in Northern California and Tommy’s birthday approached, Oliver found himself missing his oldest friend more and more.

His hangdog expression must have finally gotten to Felicity because she pushed his homework aside and asked him, “What’s crawled up your ass?” The phrasing was crass and so unlike Felicity, and looking back on it, Oliver should have known something was bothering her as well, but he hadn’t; he’d just blinked and then scowled at her. When she merely cocked her head to the side and continued to wait for him to answer he sighed his confession. “I miss Tommy.”

Her face softened and she reached out to take his hand. “You’ve missed him for a while now,” she said squeezing his hand. He nodded, confirming her statement. “Apologize to him.”

“What?” he snapped, pulling his hand from hers. Oliver saw hurt flash in her eyes, but his anger at her suggestion made him dismiss it.

“Apologize, as in say you’re sorry for punching him.”

“He kissed _my_ girlfriend,” he countered, clearly expecting Felicity to understand the guy code Tommy broke.

The exasperation on her face indicted that she didn’t get it. “Your _ex_ -girlfriend kissed him in an attempt to hurt you, like you did her. Clearly it worked.”

“He kissed her back,” he said each word slowly and clearly through gritted teeth.

“You can’t be that clueless.” When he gaped at her, Felicity huffed. “ _Boys_. Of course he kissed her back. The first time I saw Tommy he was mooning over Laurel and based on the conversations I’ve had with Sara he’s been head-over-heels – though that expression doesn’t really work when speaking about guys since you don’t wear them – forever. You chose to date the girl your best friend had feelings for and he dealt with it without trying to destroy your face. You could have returned the favor.”

Felicity’s words had become a soft background buzz, similar to the sound used in the _Peanuts_ cartoons when adults spoke, as the idea that Tommy had feelings for Laurel hit him. Tommy had been the one to encourage Laurel to pal around with them. He’d also been sulky and distant that first week he and Laurel had started dating; when Oliver had come up for air long enough to notice and ask him about his mood, Tommy mentioned losing out on a girl – he never said it was Laurel – but it hadn’t occurred to Oliver that it could be her. They were friends, had all been friends forever … of course that logic also applied to him and Laurel.

Dammit! How had he been so obtuse? Thinking back on it now, Oliver could easily picture the longing looks Tommy cast Laurel’s way, the way he had always looked at her. He’d snaked his best friend’s girl without even realizing it and Tommy had never held it against him. He’d smiled through it and never called him out on his philandering ways and had even covered for him. Though whether that was to protect him or Laurel he wasn’t sure, but at this point it didn’t matter. Tommy chose to be their friend even after they’d broken his heart.

“I’m an idiot,” he groaned, sinking his head onto the table in front of him.

“Actually, I think Laurel’s the idiot.” His head snapped up at her words. He was ready to defend Laurel, but Felicity steamed rolled over him. “Oliver you were just … clueless. Laurel knew Tommy liked her, but she wanted you, which is fine. That’s allowed. But the night of party she used Tommy to make a point and it cost _him_ – his oldest friend and pedestal he put her up on.”

“She’s not like that … how you make her sound,” he said in defense of her. “Laurel’s a good person.”

Oliver could see Felicity shuttered into herself, the brightness that always seemed to shine out of her dimmed and his gut clenched seeing it. Knowing he caused it. She refused to meet his eyes when she spoke next. “I know. She made a mistake. We all do, but you shouldn’t punish Tommy or yourself for hers.”

Felicity had packed up quickly after that leaving him feeling uncertain and confused at her words and her deflated look as they spun in his head. For the next two days Oliver did what he’d always done before and brooded.

By Thursday morning he was tired of feeling miserable, so he canceled his study session with Felicity and Dig with a terse text and headed over to Tommy’s after practice. He had a friend to apologize to and Oliver realized he’d be willing to beg for forgiveness if meant he could have Tommy back as his best friend again.

***

The following Monday Oliver was flying high. Tommy had been just as eager to make things right between them as he had; and over pizza on Thursday night they’d talked things out and fell back into their old groove as if they never missed a beat. They had both played their best game of the season the night after and two of them, along with Dig, celebrated into early Saturday morning. Thrilled to have the pair back together again, Thea had insisted on having him and Tommy all to herself on Sunday, hanging out and goofing off like they had before. At Tommy’s quick acceptance it occurred to Oliver that his friend hadn’t only been missing him, but also the slip of a girl who’d been like sister to him. He felt like an even bigger jerk, and told Tommy so before he headed home Sunday night.

“We’re good,” Tommy insisted. “No more apologizing needed from either of us.” Oliver accepted that, but he knew there was one more thing he had to do, and that was to let Tommy know if he still had feelings for Laurel that he should pursue them. It had been a slightly awkward conversation and Tommy was convinced that no matter what Laurel didn’t see him like that – still he was appreciative of the moral support.

It finally felt like his life was back on track, but better than it could have been if things hadn’t turned out so disastrously at Diggle’s party. Not only did he have Tommy back, he’d made another true friend in Dig and he was doing better in school than ever had before, and it was all thanks to Felicity.

His skin was actually tingling with excitement at the prospect of seeing her again. Besides a few glances in the halls after last Monday, he hadn’t seen or spoken to her, and he missed her – her bright eyes, her sweet smile, her endearing babble. Oliver wanted to thank her for all that she had done for him and on his drive to school he’d figured out the perfect way. The winter dance.

He could go full out. Rent a limo, buy a ridiculous expense corsage, and rent a room so they could party with their friends into the night. They could make it one of those perfect high school memories that adults were always talking about, one that they could reminiscence back on when they all got together in the future for drinks or brunch or whatever thirty-year-olds did with their friends.

Oliver was so caught up in the idea of it that he didn’t realize that Felicity did not return his jovial greeting with one of her own. He just pressed on and asked her to the dance. It wasn’t until she said, “I can’t,” instead of yes that he caught onto the fact that something was wrong.

“What?” he questioned in disbelief.

“I can’t go to dance with you, Oliver.” She kept her voice low and again she wasn’t meeting his gaze.

“Why?”

Felicity bit her lip. Her plump, juicy lip and when in the hell did he start thinking about her lips like that? “I already agreed to go with Cooper.”

“Seldon?” The incredulity in his question had her finally looking up at him, her normally cheerful eyes dark with annoyance. “Yes, with Cooper Seldon.” Again, he found himself asking, “Why?’

“He asked, I said yes. That’s how these things usually occur,” she snapped.

Of course he knew that, but the real question is why she would say yes to Cooper Seldon – slimy AV nerd – of all people. Why wouldn’t she have waited for him to ask her? “Tell him you changed your mind.”

“What? No!” She sounded truly aghast at his demand.

“Felicity you can’t go to the dance with Cooper,” he insisted.

He watched her take a calming breath. “Oliver, _he_ asked _me_ , which means I could have said no. Obviously, I didn’t. I said yes, and I said yes, because _I_ want to go to the dance with him.”

The thought that Felicity liked Cooper, could _like_ -like him and perhaps even wanted to date him flabbergasted and infuriated Oliver. He wasn’t sure what Felicity saw on his face, but she drew back from him. “How about I save you a dance?” she offered.

“Don’t bother,” he growled storming off.

***

He blown off their normal Monday study session, but his grades were up enough that coach didn’t pester him about it. For the rest of the week when he caught a glimpse of her blonde hair in the hallways he made sure to look anywhere else. On Thursday when Dig asked if he was coming over after practice as had become his habit, Oliver declined and spent the evening hooking up with Isabel. There wasn’t a game Friday, it was their week off before the playoffs started, and Saturday was the dance. He still didn’t have a date to go with him, though Isabel had hinted with no subtlety at all that she was still looking for one.

She wasn’t the last person on earth he’d want to go with, but she was pretty close. His sour mood eased some when Tommy confided that Laurel had finally agreed to go with him. Seeing his friend so elated forced Oliver outside himself and he was grateful for the asinine conversation around last minute corsage buying because it kept his thoughts off of Felicity and what she might be doing with Cooper.

“Enough with the grumpy bear routine Ollie,” Thea said breaking his brood late Friday evening.

“I’m not grumpy,” he grumbled pausing his game before he tossed his xBox remote onto the couch.

“Sorry brother mine, that’s not going to fly,” she remarked as she curled next to him. “You’re more broody then when you and Tommy were on the outs.”

“I’m—”

Thea cut him off with a: “Don’t say fine. You’re not.”

Sighing, he dropped his head backwards on the couch. He could feel the weight of his sister’s hazel eyes on him. She was becoming such an adult and the change was freaking him out a bit. He missed his little Speedy who chased after him and looked at him like he hung the moon. Oliver turned his head and opened his eyes, meeting his sister’s concerned gaze head on. “It’s not nothing. It’s just …” he trailed off.

He was Oliver Queen, golden boy of Starling Prep and he was having girl troubles. Just not girl _troubles_ , because Felicity wasn’t his girl. Though thinking that caused his stomach to twist, because Felicity was his, just not like that. She was his friend. Then again so was Sara and the thought of her dating someone didn’t cause his heart clench and his ire to rise.

“What? What is it Ollie?” his sister implored.

Oliver finally admitted it to himself when he confessed to his sister. “There’s this girl and I screwed up.”

***

He’d never been so grateful that the numerous business and charity events his parents forced him to attend meant that he had his very own tux always at the ready. His impatient gaze flittered over his fellow students as he searched out Felicity in the crowd. After a long and blundering conversation with his baby sister, where she’d ‘oohed and aahed’ over the fact that he and Felicity had been exchanging “heart-eyes” (her words) for weeks, Oliver knew what he had to do.

He had to go get his girl. And the dance provided him with the perfect opportunity to sweep Felicity off her feet and far, far away from Cooper Seldon. When he finally spotted Felicity she was in the dancing crowd, but thankfully she was in Diggle’s burly arms and not Cooper’s scrawny ones.

Oliver was relieved that the song they were swaying to was nearing its end. It meant he could steal Felicity away, find a quiet corner where he could apologize to her and let her know that the reason he’d been acting like a jealous idiot was, in fact, because he was jealous idiot because he was crazy about her and he wanted to be with her. Not just as friends. He wanted to be her boyfriend, and not the half-assed faithless boyfriend he’d been to Laurel, but the hopelessly devoted boyfriend she deserved.

He had his speech all worked out but upon seeing her in fancy red dress, golden hair swept up in an intricate knot and her eyes made smoky with makeup Oliver lost all ability to think and could only feel. In that moment he did the only he could, he walked right over to Felicity, swept her up in his arms and kissed her until she was just as senseless as him.

And he kept kissing her throughout the rest of their lives together. After they won State, the day she left for early admissions at MIT, the summer afternoon he joined her in Boston since she stayed on to take classes, when they moved into their very own apartment two years later, the night he got drafted second overall by their hometown football team the Starling Archers, the lazy Sunday afternoon he proposed to her in the rain, on their wedding day with Tommy and Dig standing beside him, the late night their son was born and the early morning their daughter graced them with her presence, after her promotion to Head of Applied Sciences at Queen Consolidated, over the sounds of a roaring crowd when he won the Super Bowl … after every moment that mattered and some that didn’t Oliver kissed Felicity, and after every kiss he couldn’t wait for the next one.


	7. Once More with Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Arrow/BTVS_ prompt. Felicity is one of the many Chosen Ones out that after the events of Sunnydale. Prompted by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't watched _Buffy_ in a while so I'm playing a bit fast and loose with things, especially the effects of the other Chosens being activated, and obviously playing with timeline of it happening since this is set in season two of _Arrow_ altering events in 2.13 (Heir to the Demon). Also, I've never written _Buffy_ before so ... I tried.

He’d been pounding out his seething rage onto the wooden dummy when Sara had come in. Oliver wanted to ignore her, wanted to disregard everything but the feel of the skin of his knuckles beginning to split against the smooth wood. She didn’t leave though, so he dive into her lips, as he tried to push away his emotions: the anger he felt at his mother, his own self-disgust for lying yet again to Thea – but she couldn’t know about Merlyn, it would destroy her and Oliver would do _anything_ to protect his sister – and then there was the moment Felicity confided the truth, her fear, the thought that anything would make him turn away from her when he knew that it was an impossibility. Though why it was, was something he couldn’t allow himself to explore.

When his cell buzzed Oliver growled. Where his intensive training hadn’t allowed him to escape his tumultuous thoughts, the feel of Sara against him, sinewy strength under skin that was soft where it wasn’t blotted with scars that matched his own. He was grateful when the buzzing stopped and the only sound in the foundry was their heavy breathing and Sara’s back hitting one of the concrete pillars.

Oliver was just about to push her pants down when his phone sounded again. Panting, Sara pushed some distance between them. “You should probably deal with that.” At his discontented scowl she huffed out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold your place.”

He nipped her lips quickly before stalking over to his worktable where he’d tossed his phone upon his arrival earlier in the evening. Oliver didn’t recognize the number so he answered the called with a terse, “What?”

“Mr. Queen?” a hesitant female voice asked.

Wonderful, he thought, some groupie or overzealous reporter had tracked down his number. He’d have to Felicity to change it again. Thinking of his blonde IT partner when seconds ago he’d been making out with Sara had him tensing as guilt flood him. Oliver reminded himself that there was no reason to feel that way, they were _friends_ , he owed Felicity his loyalty not his fidelity. “Yes,” he snapped.

“I’m …” the voice paused, he assumed for the woman on the other end to collect herself. “This is Nurse Brooks from Starling City General. I’m calling because you’re listed as Felicity Smoak’s emergency contact.”

Oliver felt his knees weaken as he collapsed into the worktable. His weight caused the metal to groan. Behind him he heard Sara say his name in concern. “Is she …” he couldn’t finish the question, he could barely think the worst because Felicity was so bright, so alive and he _needed_ her like that.

“She collapsed at her neighbors. She is unconscious, but her vitals are strong. We need consent to run some more expansive diagnostic tests to figure out why she collapsed.”

“Yes,” he choked out. “Whatever needs done, do it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

***

He crossed his arms and stood straighter, accenting his impressive height combined with his bulk, chasing the curious bystander away. Lyla clamped a hand over his forearm and offered a supportive squeeze. His stance relaxed ever so slightly, but the tension in his coiled muscles could not be released. He and Lyla had only been minutes behind Oliver, who he found pacing in the emergency waiting room with Sara watching him. Not ten minutes after he’d joined his friend, Roy appeared. At his questioning eyebrow, the boy offered that Felicity invited him over for dinner and her neighbor had filled him in after she found him pounding on her door, concerned because she hadn’t answered.

John knew that Felicity intended to reach out and befriended the young man, she had spoken to him about it because she knew he’d be worried about it because of the drug coursing through Roy’s system. She promised to be careful, but Felicity was convinced that if they treated Roy like he was about to lose it any minute he inevitably would. She thought if they acted normal around him, he’d be able to regulate himself. He wasn’t sure if it was wishful thinking on her part, but he trusted her decision. The fact that Roy hadn’t broken down her door or scared Ms. Ferdinand into calling the police boded well.

For his part Oliver ignored them, barely registering their presence as he continued to pace the hallway. John gave him twenty more minutes before he exploded and caused a scene and said a silent thank you to whatever higher power was out there that the doctor arrived with two minutes to spare. He reported that Felicity regained consciousness during the MRI. She was groggy and confused, having muttered something in language none of the staff was familiar with, John couldn’t help releasing a slight chuckle at the thought of his friend managing to spout out some binary upon awaking.

“The MRI was clean, but Miss Smoak reported feeling a sudden influx of pain throughout her body. We’re going to keep her overnight for observation and as long as there isn’t another incident she’ll be able to go home sometime tomorrow. I’ll have someone come get you once we have her settled in a room. We do like to limit visitors to two—”

“A private room,” Oliver finally spoke, cutting off the doctor. “I want her to have a private room and then the number of visitors and length of our visit shouldn’t be an issue.” By the tone he used John knew the young billionaire did not expect anything but a quick assent.

The doctor was either brave or a fool because he replied, “Mr. Queen her insurance—”

Once again Oliver cut him off, his voice went deeper, close to the tone he used when intimating criminals. “I’ll cover any additional expenses.”

Wide eyed the doctor promised to see to it before making a hasty exit.

***

Waking up to find herself in a hospital had been strange. Having her friends hovering over, finding ten different ways to ask if she really was all right was odd. Oliver insisting on spending the night was downright outlandish. Sara coming home and spending the first night with her had been a tad awkward but over Thai takeout and slapstick comedy they bonded and it was nice feeling like the mysterious, bad ass beauty from Oliver’s past could be her friend.

It wasn’t until the following day that things got weirder. She’d be going through her morning routine, getting ready to go to Queen Consolidated because no matter what Oliver said she would not be taking time off. Isabel Rochev was treacherous and needed to be watched like a hawk whether Oliver thought so or not. But when she put on her glasses Felicity found looking out through them made everything fuzzy instead of clear and when she took them off everything was in perfect focus.

Felicity thought she somehow left her contacts in but when she felt around her eyes they were not there. Temporary side effect of passing out? She’d have to Google that. In the meantime, she tucked her glasses into their case and slipped that into her purse; when her imperfect vision returned she’d be ready.

Half an hour later, Isabel was staring at her, shocked look on her face, as she crumbled a mug of hot coffee with her bare hand, spilling the creamy concoction down her blouse and skirt combo, after a particularly pointed exchange between them. Isabel recovered first, “I’d see about cleaning that up,” she instructed before turning on her heel and leaving with the sharp click of her very high heels echoing.

Too surprised by what she’d done, Felicity could think of no rejoinder. Though it grated she did as suggested, thinking of it like that made it easier, before she pulled out the spare dress she kept at the office for nights she didn’t want to wear work clothes to foundry for Arrow work. The magenta dress was a little tight, in all the right places for a nightclub, and would be acceptable with the lightweight sweater she also kept there because Isabel preferred it cooler than she liked and on Oliver’s behalf she only won the temperature war half of the time.

During the rest of the work week things like that kept happening as her senses were heightened and her reflexes were faster. In all her research Felicity could find nothing about mysteriously passing out causing side effects like the ones she was experiencing without some sort of trauma, which the doctor had assured she did not have. Worried, but unwilling to broach the topic with Oliver and Dig because they’d already been keeping an over-protective eye on her, as if they were anticipating that she might drop again before their very eyes.

Felicity decided to what she did best. Hack. After she set up very specific search parameters. The results she got back two days later did little ease her disquiet. All around world, at the same time, females from the age of thirteen to twenty-seven, dropped unconscious for no discernible reason. At least she found none in the medical records she’d reviewed, but with over twelve hundred known records – and there was a high probability that there were unreported cases – she had a lot of data to shift through.

***

Over the last few years Willow’s focus had shifted from developing her cyber skills to magic, but Andrew being folded into the team helped them fill that void. With the dust settling from the battle of the hellmouth, a half-formed plan had been enacted – find, protect, and train as many as potentials as possible – and it was Andrew’s cyber feelers that made them aware of a very sophisticated hack out of Starling City that was after the same information.

Giles and Faith had already left to babysit the hellmouth in Cleveland or Buffy would had sent him to follow-up on what the Slayer was hoping was a potential in search of answers and not something like the Initiative tracking them down. With the stories of the hooded vigilante coming out of Starling, Buffy didn’t like the idea of sending any of her friends, which is how send ended up traveling with Andrew (as she needed his expertise) to the metropolis a few hours north of what used to be Sunnyvale.

After a long and boring afternoon of listening to Andrew mutter to himself as he tried to further back-trace the hack with no success she needed a break. Patrolling the city without the use of Willow’s finder spell for the evening seemed like the smart way to go. If Andrew wasn’t able to make progress they’d use it in the morning to see if there truly was a potential in Starling.

She’d been moving through city, sticking to the shadows, for nearly an hour. She’d caught sight of some petty crime – a john picking up a hooker, a drug deal, an illegal dice game in a dead-end backstreet – but had yet to run into anything up her alley. She’d been content to let the city run as usual until she heard a pained, panicked scream. Instinct kicked in, and when she found two unsavory goons attacking a petite redhead, it didn’t matter to Buffy that they weren’t vampires or any other type of bump in the night monster. They needed to be stopped.

She had successfully distracted them from their intentions when a blonde in black leather jumped into the fray with her. In under a minute they had the two men unconscious on the ground, Buffy turned to thank the other blonde for the assist but stopped short when saw the black mask. She heard tales of a man in a green hood, but not of a woman in black.

“Impressive,” the mask said in way of greeting.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied. Her comment earned a smile, before a flash of red above them caught her eye. Buffy gazed up to get a better look but the figure danced out of view and by the time her attention returned to the ground the black mask was gone. “Really good in fact,” she murmured under her breath before offering to see the redhead safely home.

***

It had been a busy a morning. He’d been in back-to-back meetings for three hours and Oliver was beginning to feel antsy. And not just because he loathed meetings. He hadn’t seen Felicity in over two hours when she stepped in for a few minutes to give him a quick rundown for the two meetings proceeding the one that he managed to end early. She had blithely reminded him that she wouldn’t of had to provided the details in speed-reader fashion if he had arrived on-time.

He’d been tempted to counter that he would have arrived on-time if he didn’t have to stop for coffee every morning, but that wasn’t an argument worth having with his assistant. Felicity had made herself abundantly clear where she stood on that front.

Dig was keeping an eye on her, much to her growing annoyance, but after her stay in the hospital and the events of the Clock King, he’d prefer Felicity where someone could see her. That way he’d know for certain that she was safe.

Entering his office from the conference room he looked out through the glass wall and saw Felicity at her desk, her focus on the screen in front of her, even as she and Diggle carried on a conversation. Her ability to multitask never ceased to amaze him and while he could, Oliver took a moment to just stand there and take her in, finding himself breathing easier.

He found himself once again grateful that things with Sara hadn’t gone any further that night. The thought of seeing the look he had that evening in Moscow on her face again had been enough for him to curtail his self-destructive need to lose himself in momentary pleasure to block out all the bad. Thankfully Sara understood and hadn’t held it against him. Though it had made the moment when he told Felicity that she would always be his girl dangerous. The words he’d spoken to her after Russia still stood, because of the life he’d chosen, it was better not to be with someone he really cared about and he could finally admit to himself that he _more than_ cared for her.

Dig had just caught him gazing when the alarm sounded, alerting them to the fact that executive level had been accessed without proper clearance. It was a new security protocol that Felicity had designed herself and which Diggle installed personally. Oliver wasn’t willing to risk the safety of any employee to a threat like the Copycat Hoods again.

Ducking quickly into Felicity’s workspace he made a beeline for her side, prepared to protect her from whoever breached the floor while Dig moved, gun at the ready, towards the epicenter of the commotion. Her quick fingers had already called up the security cameras of the stairwell where the alarm originated from. A frown marred her face as the lock-down mechanism they put in place did not hold the intruder. Felicity accessed the cameras methodically down the stairway but the trespasser was swift and they only got a glimpse of blonde hair.

His partner changed her tactics and engaged a camera a few floors down. The face of a pretty, blonde twenty-something was captured. Oliver noted that Felicity’s fingers paused momentarily on her keyboard and he thought for a moment that she recognized the woman, but she quickly cropped the image and engaged her facial recognition program.

Forty-five minutes later, after company security, which hadn’t caught the intruder, and the SCPD had the events thoroughly recounted, “Ex-girlfriend Mr. Queen?” Lance had questioned tersely after seeing for himself that Felicity was unharmed; Oliver called an early end to their workday so the Arrow’s technical support could use the more powerful and untraceable computer setup she had at the Foundry to continue her aborted research.

***

“How did we miss a whole city getting swallowed by a sinkhole?” Felicity wondered aloud.

“Unexplained fainting spell and then the whole Clock King debacle,” Roy replied easily, earning him a swift hit from the escrima stick Oliver was holding. She didn’t see how beating on the boy every chance he got was training him, but Dig approved. Preparing a mirakuru laced young man for the vigilante lifestyle was _way_ outside her wheelhouse, so Felicity decided not to argue with Oliver’s method.

The information she’d dug up on Buffy Summers – former troubled Los Angeles teen turned slightly more upstanding high school student in Sunnyvale, CA who until recently had been attending UC Sunnyvale. She was the oldest daughter of Hank (whereabouts currently unknown) and Joyce (deceased) Summers and was the legal guardian of her teenage sister, Dawn. She had been in and out of scrapes with the police, but nothing too serious or that stuck. If her high school hadn’t burned down the day she graduated Felicity was certain her permanent file would have been a long and interesting read.

The natural disaster that hit the small Californian town had come with some warning, so the majority of the population had escaped; still they all knew how horrific the thought of losing their home could be, and Felicity could not imagine what it would be like to actually see it disappear. She felt innate sympathy for the young woman, for all that she had suffered, but at the same time, she felt apprehensive because when she first saw her face – a face she had literally never laid eyes on – there had been a sense of recognition.

She hadn’t known how to explain that to Oliver and Dig, much like she hadn’t figured out how confide the prolonged side effects of the _not_ fainting spell Roy had just referenced. Instead she continued to read and run her searches, looking for something that connected Buffy Summers to Oliver or Queen Consolidated. She’d been so deep into her research that she hadn’t heard Sara join them, but when her soft voice sounded right next to her, asking why the girl who’d helped with a rescue of a woman last night was on her monitors her attention snapped back to the present.

Oliver, Dig and Sara started speculating and it was clear to Felicity that Oliver was tense at the notion that Buffy had somehow connected Oliver Queen to the Arrow. “I think we have a bigger problem,” Roy stated, breaking into the taunt conversation.

“Which would be?” Oliver inquired.

“That,” Roy replied, pointing to the club feed of Verdant which showed one Buffy Summers winding her way through the crowd, clearly in search of something.

In the next moment Oliver was barking out orders – for Roy and Dig to cover the front and back exit, for Sara to work with him to flank the blonde, and for her to say at behind her screens, tucked safely away in the basement. He hadn’t given her a chance to protest and she griped angrily into the coms about his highhanded manner. “Later,” he responded tersely.

“You better believe it,” she grumbled back before falling silent. If they needed her eye in the sky view she would provide it, until then she didn’t want to distract her team. Chewing on her lower lip, Felicity watched their target move through the club and it became evident pretty quickly that Buffy – and seriously what kind of name was that? – had a destination in mind.

Her goal became a certainty as the blonde made her way to the hallway from where the doorway to the lair was accessible. Felicity wasn’t sure what compelled her, but she left her desk and headed up the stairs.

***

Looking at the keypad Buffy decided it would be easier to just the break the lock, she was reaching for the door handle when a cold, feminine voice warned, “I wouldn’t do that.” Turning towards the voice she took in the blue eyes, the shape of the other blonde’s lips and her stance and she knew it was the mask from the evening before.

Silently cursing her luck, she started to quickly run through her options when the door she’d been about to break opened and yet another blonde, this one not a natural, dressed in super cute business attire appeared. Buffy knew instinctively, like she had known when she met others, that this was their potential.

A growled, “Felicity,” sounded from the side opposite of the mask. Casting a quick look that way she was surprised to see a very lethal looking Oliver Queen.

Buffy knew without a doubt that explaining the whole chosen/vampire reality to this potential and her vigilante friends was going to be a whole lot more complicated than she’d anticipated and she wished she had more than Andrew for backup.


	8. Healing Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity prompt: Oliver isn't feeling well and Felicity takes care of him (: Prompted by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I jumped out of order again, but this one really inspired me.

It would have been laughable if it wasn't so adorable. Oliver Queen, the man she'd heard groan slightly after Diggle had dug a bullet out of his chest and went about his usual activities and who she'd seen with her own eyes shoot up his own busted knee full of lidocaine to press on against Slade.

Seeing him curled up in their bed - _their bed_ the thought of it still thrilled her - with a sore back was unexpected. A backache caused by him holding her up as they made love against almost every vertical surface as they christened _their new home_ the night before.

Felicity had to bite back a chuckle at the thought of her breaking him with sex. It was just muscle strain she was sure. He'd spent too many years parkouring his way through island and urban jungles to be brought down by sex. _Really spectacular sex_. 

Humming happily at the memory she pulled the heated aromatherapy pouch from the microwave, she added it to the tray with a cup of Oliver's horrible tasting but super healing herb tea, aspirin, a pint of mocha chip ice cream - it was a little early for the frozen treat but it was her _boyfriend’s_ favorite guilty pleasure - spoons, and two bottles of water.

When she got back to _their bedroom_ Felicity kissed the lids of his closed eyes. As she pulled back Oliver opened his eyes and she could see the pain shimmering in his sky blue eyes, but it was already less intense than when they had awoken in each other's arms.

"Want a rub before heat or after?"

He scrunched his nose as he thought about it a moment. "After," he sighed.

"Okay," she replied kissing his forehead before turning to get the screaming hot pouch. She nudged him up on his side gently so she could place the velvety soft heat beneath him. " **Hot** ," she warned before helping him to ease back down on the bed.

Oliver let out a hiss, his body tensing for a moment before his muscles began to relax. Felicity twisted open a bottle of water before she shook out two aspirins and placed them on his belly. "The tea is enough," he breathed out.

"Nuh uh," she argued. "I'm the doctor in this situation and you’re taking those pills, drinking your foul smelling tea and then I'll be feeding you ice cream."

"You're going to feed me?" he asked, not able to prevent the pleased smile that touched his lips.

Felicity could feel the wicked gleam sparking in her eyes. "Only if you take your medicine."

"Well if it's you asking ..." he let his words trail off as he picked up the little white pills. He winked at her before he popped them into his mouth.

"Good lad," she teased back as she offered him the open bottle of water.

Oliver held the pills with his teeth so he could release a huff of laughter as he took the bottle. He took a quick swig and exchanged the bottle for the cup of tea. "It doesn't smell that bad," he razzed before gulping down the strong brew.

"Says you."

Since he was unable to respond with a verbal rejoinder as he drank Oliver squeezed her thigh. "Hey now," she said clasping his wrist, "that's how we got into this situation."

Merriment danced in his eyes, "Totally worth it." His tone sent a jolt of pleasure through her system. Felicity was tempted, ever so tempted, to lean over and capture his lips with her own; she knew Oliver would welcome the action even if he was sore. And it would totally be worth the melted ice cream, but this was the first time Oliver let her take care of him - really take care of him - when he was in physical pain. Though it was difficult she was going to see nothing but lust in his eyes before she allowed him to flirt his way back into her pants.

"Totally," she concurred opening up the ice cream. "Now do I need to make helicopter noises or are you going to open up without any cajoling?" Oliver let out a big belly laugh and then groaned as he moved too quickly. "Sorry, sorry," she soothed rubbing his shoulder.

"It's okay," he slurred setting the cup down near his hip. It still had a fourth of the contents in it. 

"You sure?" she inquired.

He nodded. "Ice cream please, no cajoling needed."

"Whatever you need," she promised digging the spoon into the softening dessert.

Oliver wrapped his hand around hers, stopping her from bringing the spoon to his mouth. His intense gaze met hers, "As long as I have you, I have all I need Felicity." 

His words melted her and she knew he could see it as he brought the ice cream to his lips. Unable to stop herself any longer her lips were on his once the spoon was out of his mouth. They were cool and he tasted of the ice cream and his own Oliver essence. It was the best flavor she ever experienced so she kept kissing him.


	9. And the Award for Worst First Date Ever Goes To …

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity Prompt: I don't really know what you're looking for but I've always wanted a conversation to follow up on Felicity's dates that were worse than the building being blown up. Prompted by heatherdani85.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this prompt was like wrestling with a bear. Hopefully it turned out all right.

The one good thing about settling down in suburbs of Coast City instead of returning home to Starling City – Felicity still hadn’t gotten used to calling it Star City or to Ray’s death, not to mention running Palmer Technologies from their tiny Coast City branch – she also missed her Arrow family particularly Diggle, Lyla and her adorable goddaughter. But the nice thing about Coast City, other than it offering them a clean slate and a place to build a life together without any of the bad memories that were rife in Starling ( _Star_ it is Star City she reminded herself), was the fact that Roy could visit them without any extreme cautionary measures taken.

Seeing her favorite red clad hero (not that she’d tell Barry or Thea that) tickled Felicity. It was easier to stay in touch with her mother, her Starling – Great Gods of Google she’d get it right eventually – family, and even Team Flash then it was to reach Roy. Even with the satellite phone she’d given him. He actually had to turn it on for communication to happen. Something he didn’t always remember to do, especially when he killed the battery and forgot to recharge it. Of course, Roy had always been more interested in technology then capable of using it correctly, which why he learned very early on to say away from her babies unless absolutely necessary and even then to approach with care.

She’d been delighted when he appeared unexpectedly to help them move into and setup the house they rented. Less boxes for her to cart and more time to muse over the placement of things, which was really her way of getting out of the physical labor of the move but neither Oliver or Roy complained. _Much_. Having them shift the placement of the couch five times had been overkill, but Felicity had her heart set on creating the warmest, most comfortable home possible for Oliver.

He kept insisting as long as she was there, sharing it with him, it would be perfect no matter. Oliver was a sap that way, which had come as a bit of surprise to Felicity. Considering the way he looked at her, it shouldn’t have, but Oliver using his words … giving them to her freely, still felt like a bit of novelty. There were still things he had trouble expressing, but she accepted that about him and what he could give, because she knew he did it freely and with his whole heart. Besides there were still things she hadn’t had told him, she made allusions to them, so he was aware of them, but like with Oliver there were things – her father being one of them – that were difficult for her to discuss. He understood that and never pushed, accepting her with all her flaws as she accepted him.

Their over the top honeymoon phased had Roy gagging – in jest, they didn’t literally make him sick. At least she saw no evidence of that. Thankfully.

It was over pizza and beers, well red wine for her, following a long day of hauling (by those with Y chromosomes) and a lot of unpacking and setting up by her, though she left the furniture assembly to Oliver that Roy queried, “You know what I’ve always wanted to know?”

Oliver was chewing a bite of their sausage, roasted red pepper, and mushroom pizza with extra cheese so he had only raised an inquisitive brow; leaving her to ask, “What?”

“What was a worse first date then getting blown up?” He asked his blue eyes dancing with curiosity and touch a mischief. Felicity anticipated Oliver to tense or to possibly choke on the bite of his pizza as they had talked about his (asinine, her term though he’d agreed) decision, though it had not been an easy discussion for him to have. Then again none of the conversations they had about his actions hurting her or the effects his unilateral decisions had on her life had been easy. They’d been necessary and ended with the promise that big, life altering decisions about _their life_ together would never be made that way again, which was something she needed to make their relationship work long term. But she knew how hard Oliver was on himself for what happened and how he regretted the time they’d lost, so Roy alluding to it had her shooting him an irritated glare.

Beside her Oliver swallowed and remarked, “You know, I’ve wondered that myself.” Her aggravated gaze snapped from Roy to him. Instead of looking apprehensive or defensive he was smiling at her. And not just a slight upturn of his lips, but a wide grin that flashed the dimple in his left cheek even through his stubble and made his eyes crinkle; those crystal orbs were sparkling with amusement.

“Fess up Blondie,” Roy prompted knowing he had his mentor on his side. “What possibly could be worse? Inquiring minds _need_ to know.”

Felicity rolled her eyes now that she was able to relax knowing that Roy hadn’t accidentally steered them into an emotional minefield. “It wasn’t just the date itself, which was pretty horrible – I mean, at least when I almost got blown up I was with my perfect guy – not that you were my _guy_ -guy back then Oliver. I just wanted you to be. But the fallout from it is definitely what made it the worst.”

Her boyfriend tucked his fingers between hers and brought her hand up to lips to kiss the back of it. “I was your guy back then Felicity. I’ll never be perfect though.”

She melted into his side, nipped his lips and told him, “Perfect for me.”

Before Oliver could respond, Roy groaned out, “Gross!” They both let out a huff of laughter as she settled her head on Oliver’s shoulder. Their fingers untangled and he dropped his hand behind her back and brought it to rest on her hip.

“Deal with it or no worst date tale,” she threatened.

“It better be worth it,” he grumbled in response.

Amused, she flashed him a smirk before rambling out her tale of brownies, allergic reactions and stalker-ish tendencies. “My first roommate at MIT, Candi with an ‘i’,” she said with a dismissive tone, “talked me into a blind date with her boyfriend’s teammate – they were lacrosse players.” When she got no reaction from either Oliver or Roy, Felicity realized that Dig had never shared that nugget of information she dropped on him during the whole Slade Wilson debacle. “Rick was a good guy, but his pal, Todd …” she trailed off remembering the uncomfortable feeling of leaving her dorm and no matter the time finding Todd there, waiting and watching.

Needing to deflect she informed them, “His idea of a good first date was a frat party. Free beer and junk food – not that I’m against those things, they’re pretty amazing as long as it’s _good_ beer and food, which it _wasn’t_ – but how are you supposed to get to know someone if you can’t hear them speak over blaring music?”

“Attending the party was informative though, that’s where I learned anyone with boobs can get a fat boy to do anything.” Teasing Oliver about their previous exchange made her feel better. This was a sort of funny story looking back on it. It had been a bit scary and nerve-wracking at the time, but handling it had given her a greater confidence in herself and that assurance had allowed her to believe that she could be more than just an IT girl. It allowed her to become Oliver’s partner in every way, so she couldn’t regret anything that led her to that.

Oliver’s hand flexed on her hip as Roy chortled in amusement. “Candi got one of the fraternity brothers to crawl on his hands and knees to get me a brownie, which regrettably I ate.”

“You regretting chocolate?” Roy scoffed.

“It was laced with pot,” Oliver answered, “it was Felicity’s only encounter with drugs and not a pleasant one because she’s allergic to nuts.” Touched that Oliver could practically recite word-for-word something she told him off-handily two years ago, she turned her head and kissed his collarbone.

“The trip to the ER to have my stomach pumped was actually the highlight of the evening.”

“I still don’t see how Oliver being your plus one makes getting blown up a better date than that.”

“Thanks Roy,” was Oliver’s deadpanned response. Felicity giggled at the cantankerous look on his face – Grumpy Cat had nothing on Oliver Queen.

“Haven’t gotten to the fallout,” she reminded them. “Todd waited to take me back to campus, which was the gentlemanly thing to do, and I thanked him for it. Looking back on it I probably shouldn’t have kissed him on the cheek, but he’d been sweet and I thought it was understood after that unmitigated disaster there wouldn’t be second date.”

“Guys can be thick when it comes to a pretty girl,” Roy commented.

“There is dense and then there is worrisome,” she replied causing both men to stiffen.

“Felicity,” Oliver said her name like a question, one that he wasn’t certain he wanted to know the answer to and it still amazed her how much he could convey with just her name and the inflection in his voice.

“When I didn’t return any of his calls, texts or emails he sent flowers, a candygram, and even a singing-telegram, unfortunately that one couldn’t be sent back. Singing,” she ridiculed, “more like caterwauling. And when I still wouldn’t talk to him he started waiting around my dorm.”

“He stalked you!” Roy exclaimed clearly upset by the notion.

“A little bit,” she hedged.

Roy’s eyes narrowed, as Oliver’s grip on her tightened, like he was trying to protect her now from the memory of what happened. Through gritted teeth their young guest stated, “There is no such thing as a little bit of stalking Felicity.”

There was no way to argue with that statement, because Roy was correct, but thinking of it like that back then had made it easier to deal with the situation. “True,” she acquiesced, “but I scared him away with my loud voice. And a taser, not that I used it on him, I just sort of sparked it in his direction.” When neither Roy nor Oliver responded, she babbled on, “So clearly, worst first date, _ever_. Though I have a couple second dates that could top it.”


	10. Not Your Typical Green Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hello here's a prompt idea where Laurel is jealous and hurt when she finds out Olicity is an item. Full blowout between Oliver and Laurel. Happy Olicity ending. Prompted by supersmallvamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering the way the writers worked to establish a friendship between Laurel and Felicity, particularly the embrace they shared when Felicity broke down in Laurel’s arms after Nanda Parbat, I had trouble seeing Laurel as jealous and having it out with Oliver. So this isn’t exactly what was requested, it turned into Laurel and Oliver getting to have a longer conversation at the wedding reception during 3.17 (Suicidal Tendencies) and is told exclusively from Laurel's POV.

He had always managed to wear a tuxedo well, though admittedly his post-island body cut a more appealing look. At first it had been grating, still finding Ollie physically attractive after the hell he’d put her through; but there had been an unfinished pull between them. Their relationship had ended so abruptly, so horribly with so many things left unsaid that their coming back together had felt inevitable. All but destined – Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance – their love the stuff of legends … it had been a starry eyed dream of youth and never the reality between them.

It had taken them making a lot of mistakes, hurting a lot of other people in the process, for them both to realize that the genuine affection they had for each other was not true love. They’d been flash and heat, and from the moment they’d come together they’d been growing apart. She’d clung to their relationship, refusing to see his misbehavior, because she’d been an addict even then and hadn’t realized it. Her drug of choice had been the buzz between them, the excitement Ollie elicited in her. That it had been toxic for both of them hadn’t mattered. She craved it and therefore him and mistook that feeling for love.

Real love, the kind that warmed your soul and opened you up, assisting in your growth as individual while enriching the couple you were becoming wasn’t something she’d experienced until Tommy. They had both screwed up – her addiction, his insecurities – but in the end he’d come for, saved her, and continued to inspire her every day. _Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world_. Her work in the DA’s office and as the Black Canary was about living up to that statement as much as it was about honoring and avenging her sister.

Laurel thought losing that kind of love herself was worst thing she could experience in her life, and it was, but a very close second was watching Ollie throw it away. There had been a moments when she’d been resentful of quirky, blonde genius who managed to capture Ollie’s heart without even trying. That Felicity received honesty and fidelity from him, when she’d gotten lies and trail of woman whom he cheated with had hurt. Why Felicity and not her?

Even as she and Felicity became friends, as she realized how amazing the blonde was, that niggling question had still been there until it dawned her after they thought Ollie died on that mountain top; it wasn’t about it her or Felicity, it was about _Ollie_ , who he had become. Oliver Queen, the Starling City vigilante hero. _He_ was who loved Felicity Smoak, not the Ollie she’d known.

Understanding that washed away the residual jealousy and hurt that she hadn’t been able to shake and when he returned to them Laurel, like Diggle and Roy, hoped that Oliver would finally cast aside the foolish idea that he could not be with woman he loved, who loved him back and made him better – who made them all better. Instead she had been livid at his decision to work with Malcolm Merlyn. So much so, that for a while she’d almost been pleased that the choice had driven a wedge between him and Felicity. But seeing her friend ache, made her angry for a whole different reason.

She’d been supportive when Felicity attempted to move on by starting a relationship with Ray. Laurel thought it had been the right decision, no matter how obvious it was that Felicity was still in love with Oliver. Seeing the longing way he’d gazed at her all through the ceremony she was beginning to doubt if either them would ever truly be able to get over the other. Her Ollie would have slept with a two dozen different women by now or party so hard that he ended up in jail. Felicity’s Oliver pined quietly from the sidelines, trying desperately for her apparent happiness to be enough for him while he stayed faithful.

Simply put, he was being idiot. Had been being one for a quite a while now and it _had_ to stop. They both deserved better.

Resolved to get through to him, Laurel walked across the ballroom and eased into the discussion with, “Beautiful ceremony.”

A slight smile touched his lips as he took her in. “Beautiful dress.”

“Thank you.”

“Did it come with the cast?” he asked, clearly concerned but there was also a hint of warning in his tone.

Because her place on the team still felt precarious – Oliver had made it clear that he did not want her to follow in Sara’s footsteps – no matter the support offered by the others, she replied, “I started fighting with a new trainer. She's enthusiastic.” When he merely raised a questioning eyebrow her green eyes narrowed with annoyance. She was capable, she had a team behind her, and Oliver Queen could stuff it. He didn’t even know what was best for himself, so why he felt capable of thinking he knew what was best for others was beyond her.

“You’re an idiot.” Laurel hadn’t meant to state it quite as bluntly as she had, but her irritation was his fault.

“Excuse me?” he questioned, his stance straightening as his muscles tightened.

“You,” she said with a poke to his chest, “are an idiot.” With each word she poked him again. She figured the only reason he didn’t grab her wrist and stop her jabs was because of the brace on it.

“Whatever this is about Laurel,” he said his voice low, dangerously close to tone he used while under the hood, “now is not the time or place for it.”

“Actually it is,” she countered. “See over there,” Laurel glanced over to Lyla and John. The newly married couple was lost in each other’s eyes as they danced, completely obvious to the world outside themselves. She waited until saw that Oliver’s attention was on the couple before continuing, “You could have that.”

His cerulean eyes snapped back to her. “Well maybe not the marriage part, not yet anyhow.” Saying that Laurel thought spending so much time with Felicity was starting to rub off, it was practically a babble. Pushing that amusing thought from her mind she pressed on, “But the love, the partnership, _that_ could be yours if you weren’t such a stubborn—”

“Idiot,” he cut her off. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I have eyes Ollie.” His deep frown did not deter her. “You might as well have a flashing pink neon sign above your head saying you’re in love Felicity. It would go so well with her green one saying she loves you.”

His breath hitched and he took a step back. “She doesn’t—” he stopped, his face pained though his eyes, they shimmered with something akin to hope.

Before she had a chance to respond, Laurel watched Ollie pull into himself, forcing a neutral look on his face. She didn’t understand his rapid change until she caught sight out of her periphery of Felicity approaching them, bouquet in hand.

***

It had been a long night. Hell a long few weeks, but Starling City was safe and Ra’s al Ghul was dead, neutralizing the threat of the League of Assassins on her friends and city. Laurel wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for twenty-four hours straight, after a bath, a very bubbly bath.

She was easing on her jacket over her sore muscles when she felt another presence in the room. “Unless the world is actually ending I’m going home.”

His laughter, something which was still such a strange thing to hear, echoed through the room. Hearing it Laurel couldn’t help but smile as she turned to face Ollie. He looked lighter now, happier; with the burden he’d been carrying no longer weighing on him. “The world is good. Enough,” he amended. “But before you go I want to thank you.”

Laurel cocked her right hip and brought her hand to rest on it. “I’m pretty sure you already did.”

“Maybe, for having my back. And for not punching me,” he actually teased.

“Still considering it,” she bantered back.

“Duly noted.” He cast his eyes down and shuffled his feet nervously. It was such an un-Oliver thing to do; it wasn’t even an Ollie gesture. Perhaps it was something the person he wanted to find would do. When the silence continued to hang between them Laurel prompted, “Thank me so I can home and sleep.”

His gaze met her again, “Thank you Laurel for giving me hope when I needed it most.”

She felt her jaw drop. She’d been pretty anti-Oliver the last few weeks, ever since he went after Nyssa. Maybe she heard him wrong or maybe his time with the League really had messed with his mind. Or maybe she was just too damn tired to speculate. “Explain that sentence.”

He smiled at her, an easy contented type of smile that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen spread across his face before. “The night of Dig’s wedding, when you told me I was an idiot.”

“That gave you hope?” she scoffed.

“No,” he chuckled. “You said she loved me. I hadn’t – I didn’t think she still could. I don’t think I could have gotten through everything that happened after the wedding, until she gave me the words herself, without that.” Oliver stepped forward and cupped her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “So thank you.”

Laurel opened her mouth to say something to him, she wasn’t sure what exactly though, and after a few beats of silence, she finally managed, “You’re welcome.” His smile widened and she found herself grinning back at him.

There was a soft knock from the doorway, Oliver turned and stepped out of her line of sight. In the doorway was Felicity looking happier and more exhausted then Laurel had ever seen her. “Ready Mister?” she asked holding out a hand to Oliver.

“More than,” he replied walking towards her. Their hands tangled as he closed the distance. Once they were shoulder to shoulder he looked back, “Good night Laurel.”

“Night guys,” she replied, “and safe travels.”

Felicity waved, “I’ll send postcards,” she promised as the twosome left hand-in-hand.


	11. That Awkward First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity run into the man (or woman) she lost her virginity to. Prompted by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for this one. It gave me **_so much_** trouble and I'm not really sure why, but it was either beat it into some sort of submission or give up. And, well, screw giving up.

Three months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours and … counting the minutes and seconds since Oliver told her that he wanted to be with her seemed a _tad_ much but if anyone cared to ask Felicity could provide them with that information. She could also recite the name of every B &B, motel and the few luxury hotels they had made their temporary home during their travels. As well as list every little town, big city, state and country they had visited. Places they’d been before separately, now visited and viewed together and new places neither had been before – they were exploring the world together and each other while they did so – becoming a them, a we, an _us_ ; Oliver and Felicity a duo and not separate entities.

She could romanticized their voyage, say every moment was flawless, but the reality was that they had arguments and tough discussions. They had to, given how things had gone down after their trip to Nanda Parbat to save Thea. But Felicity would take the truth and honesty, the hard conversations, and the passionate reconciliations over any false sense of perfection, because it was real, _they_ were real and they were happy together.

And she was drunk.

So drunk. _So very drunk_. Oliver was watching her with hungry enjoyment as she swayed at the edge of the dance floor. He’d been adamant that he didn’t dance and she’d been determined to get him to, and somehow she figured getting him to down shots of vodka with her would loosen his resolve. That hadn’t worked obviously; because she was alone on the dance floor with everything delightfully fuzzy around her from the buzz of alcohol except him. It didn’t matter what state she was in, Felicity could always focus in on Oliver.

Some people had coffee detection. She remembered fondly the wavy haired honey-brunette she’d befriend in college. Be it a Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts or some small independent coffeehouse Liz would find coffee; whether inebriated, dead tired, or already wired on caffeine if there was coffee nearby she _always_ found it. Just like Felicity always found Oliver.

Oliver was her coffee. Amused by the thought she giggled and the sound carried over to him, causing his face to shine with contentment. Felicity loved knowing she put that look on his face. That she could make him just as jubilant as he made her.

Basking in that sensation and wanting to put on a bit of show for her boyfriend – _boyfriend_ she thought gleefully, yeah that would never get old – she closed her eyes, threw up her arms and twirled on her small section of the crowded dance floor.

***

Oliver was about ten seconds away from scooping Felicity up in his arms and racing them back to their hotel a few blocks away so she could finish her alluring, carefree moves in private when a masculine voice to his left called out, “Felicity,” in surprised pleasure.

A tall, lanky stranger made a beeline for his favorite blonde, catching her mid-spin her causing her blue eyes to pop open. As he stalked forward Oliver saw Felicity tense and confusion mar her brow. Just as he was reaching out to grasp the man’s arm and growl at him that he had no right to touch a woman without her consent, Felicity let out a squeal of delight and hugged the sun-kissed blonde. The hand that had paused mid grip clenched into a fist at her pleased noise.

She pushed herself up on her toes and sloppily kissed the man’s cheek. His jaw clenched seeing their bodies make full contact. “Peter,” she greeted loudly, a wide grin on her face as she stepped back, putting too small of a sliver of space between them for Oliver’s liking. “You’re here. Like _here_ -here in Bali? At this club? On this dance floor? I’m not imagining it, right? Peter is really here?” Felicity asked, her slightly dazed eyes meeting his again, looking to him for confirmation.

The stranger turned to follow Felicity’s gaze and Oliver finally got a good gander at the man whose arms were still wrapped comfortably around his girlfriend. He had boyish good looks along the lines of Barry, but unlike their friend, this Peter person was able to grow facial hair and had a raggedy beard. His green eyes, which had been filled with merriment, dulled upon taking him in and Oliver couldn’t help the satisfaction he felt as the man’s arms quickly dropped away from Felicity. He kept his voice neutral as he replied, but he knew there was caution in eyes as his focus was solely on the man next to her. “Since I’ve never met Peter I can’t say that it’s him.”

“Peter Donaldson,” he greeted with a nervous laugh holding out his hand.

Oliver eyed the offered hand, but before he could make a decision about whether or not to shake it, Felicity clasped it. “Felicity Smoak,” she said, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Peter let out a snort, “I know that Smoaky,” he replied with an amused roll of his eyes. Oliver cringe slightly at the nickname but thankfully neither of them noticed.

“Cause we dated,” she asked with a slight slur.

Oliver didn’t like the indulgent smile that spread across the man’s face when he confirmed, “Because we dated.” She beamed up at him as she shuffled them both off the dance floor, closer to him. Once settled where Felicity wanted them she brought their still clasped hands up for him to shake.

Seeing her so drunk and adorable Oliver couldn’t hold onto the tension he felt. His shoulders relaxed as he reached out with both hands to shake theirs. His hold was soft and gentle on Felicity’s hand when he introduced himself, “Oliver Queen.”

“As in former playboy billionaire Oliver Queen?”

Oliver’s fingers clenched down harshly on Peter’s wrist – he hated being equated to the fickle boy he’d once been – and the other man flinched at the hard clamp on the delicate bones. “Actually it’s just Oliver,” Felicity corrected, a warning tone in her voice.

“Right, of course,” Peter agreed extricating his hand from theirs. Oliver took the opportunity to wind his fingers through Felicity’s and tug her gently to his side. She snuggled into him, resting her head on his chest over his heart. Her open affection soothed him and he placed a contended kiss on the top of her head.

Felicity mewed softly and wrapped her free arm around his waist. “Sleepy,” she sniffled.

“Not too sleepy I hope,” he whispered in her ear, putting heat into his words.

“I’m never _that_ sleepy,” she responded, lifting her head, her impassioned gaze meeting his. The buzz that alcohol could not induce, she did, and it sent heat coursing throughout his body.

“That’s definitely my cue to wish you two a good night,” Peter remarked, his face red with mortification.

“Definitely,” Felicity agreed with a nod. She pulled away enough to once again get up on her toes and kiss his cheek. “Goodnight my first,” she said stepping back into his embrace. She grinned at him crookedly, “Goodnight my last,” she told him before capturing his lips with hers.

Her inebriated state made the kiss messy, but it was enough to distract Oliver from Peter’s farewell. He waved halfheartedly, before pulling Felicity flush against him, putting his full attention into kissing her senseless. Well more senseless.

It wasn’t until the following morning over coffee in bed that he thought to ask what exactly Felicity meant when she referred to Peter has her first. Her awkward, halting reply made Oliver regret that he had not squeezed Peter’s wrist a little harder the night before.


	12. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How about Oliver comes back either after 3.9 or when he returns as fake-brainwashed in 3.21 and Felicity's dead because Oliver wasn't there? Or when they travel to Nanda in 3.22 Oliver finds out Felicity isn't with them because the League killed her? Prompted by [aprilb73](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilb73/pseuds/aprilb73). [Went with the 3.22 travel to Nanda Parbat option for this.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love this prompt, but was terrified of it as well because I don’t think anything I could write along these lines could be as amazing and wrenching as [MachaSWicket](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket)'s [Continental Drift](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3384101). If you haven't read it yet, I _highly_ recommend that you do – it is fabulous.

Everything about Nanda Parbat was inhospitable. Hidden in the Hindu Kush mountain range there was a stark natural beauty, but much like the League’s inhabits the splendor was jagged and dangerous. While the night sky was painted with practically every star in the cosmos the distance at which they sparkled only served to remind Oliver that everything he held dear was so far beyond his grasp; and not just physically. His foray back to Starling to collect Nyssa had emotionally alienated him from the people he loved most. He had a plan. It was hazardous and at its successful conclusion he would be dead, but he had thought he would be able to leave his loved ones with an untarnished memory of him. In their remembrances he’d be the man who sacrificed his calling and his life for them.

Al Sah-Him, the name and position Ra's al Ghul had assigned him – a role he never would have chosen for himself – cost him that last grace. Now the last memory his family would have of him was one of betrayal and heartless deeds.

No matter how much he told himself that there had been no other choice to make, the words Felicity had spoken to him nearly two years ago still echoed through his mind, “ _Maybe there’s another way,_ ” and made his soul ache. Oliver could not help but wonder if there had been and he’d been unable to find it because of the full on assault to his senses during his League initiation and training.

The way Ra’s was pushing him, the accelerated timeline that even had Malcolm on edge … that was not in his plan and figuring out how to maneuver the unexpected without his team and reliable backup was difficult. Oliver knew he was walking a tightrope without any safety netting and one false move would cost him dearly.

His life was already forfeit, but the lives of those he cared about were still on the precipice. If Ra’s had a single doubt, if he ever suspected that he was working to destroy the League from within his punishment would be their lives. That was not a risk he could take. So he had gone to Starling, sullied his friends’ memories, betrayed his brother, gazed upon his sister as if he was a stranger and broken the heart of the woman he loved. He felt the bitter taste of that deep in his heart and soul.

Yet, most of them had still come when he needed them. The dark pit that had been stewing eased ever so slightly knowing that, even as the League surrounded them. The plane was destroyed, the virus with it, and whatever fate might befall them Oliver could stand with his friends. Where he was meant to be, where he belonged. Though part of him desperately wished that Felicity and Thea could be there with them – he’d give anything to see them one last time, to express his love for them – another was grateful that they were safe somewhere with Lyla and Sara.

He thought he could take his rightful place, but Ra’s once again prevented his desired action. The Demon’s Head ruse was five steps ahead of his own deception and though there was even a back plan for that, Oliver was trapped into playing the role of Al Sah-Him in front of his friends. He hated that, as well as, confronting their hurt and disbelief as he stood by Ra’s as they were dragged to the dungeon with the news of his wedding and how it heralded the death of Starling City.

Oliver believed that moment to be his worst. He was failing his friends, but there was still a chance to salvage their mission and save Starling. He just needed to make Diggle aware of what would transpire next. But his friend had not given him the chance to explain when one of League’s solider brought him to a private room. Instead Diggle pounced, not physically, but verbally and his words shattered him; to the extent that he could not breathe and it felt as if his heart had stopped all together. Both actions seem pointless now.

For weeks Ra’s had wanted nothing more than for him to say that Oliver Queen was dead and that the Arrow was gone, that the man he’d been no longer existed. Nothing he had undergone or been forced to do made that true. Three words changed that. Three words turned his world upside down and left him devoid of any emotion other than desolation. Three words he had done everything in his power to prevent ever hearing, including denying himself what he wanted most – her.

_“Felicity is dead.”_

Oliver wanted to rage at John. It wasn’t possible. All that color, kindness, intelligence, and beauty could not be missing from the world. It could not possibly be true because he was there, alive, choking on the thick air within Nanda Parbat. It did not matter what moniker he went by: Ollie, The Hood, The Vigilante, The Arrow, Al Sah-Him, Oliver Queen – whoever and whatever he was did not exist without Felicity Smoak.

The heartbreak and fury shimmering in Diggle’s eyes kept the denial from spilling forth. John had shared the horrible, anguishing truth with him and no matter how much he wanted to hide from it, he couldn’t. It was there in the unshed tears pooling in Dig’s eyes and Oliver felt the cold weight of it as it knocked him to his knees, his body crumbling beneath words.

_“Felicity is dead.”_

He hadn’t planned for that, could never have even thought to plan for it, because it was inconceivable. Felicity Smoak was meant to live, to shine her light on other heroes and make the world a better place. She was meant to be happy. To grow old. To live for him and if he was at all worthy he might be graced with seeing her again in whatever place there might be after life ended. She was never meant to precede him there.

Diggle offered him no comfort. It wouldn’t have matter if he did because there was none to be had.

Felicity Smoak was dead, his soul went with her. His body was just waiting to catch up.


	13. He’s Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy is Oliver and Felicity's son. Prompted by anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never done dialogue only, my fingers actually twitched wanting to add a smirk or a chuckle or an exasperated roll of the eyes; but I wanted to try something different and hopefully humorous and this prompt just seemed perfect for the attempt.

“You’re not the boss of me, Oliver.”

“Are you sure about that, Roy?”

“Oliver! You can’t talk to our boy like that.”

“What?!? _Fe-lic-ity_.”

“Don’t Felicity me Oliver. We adopted him.”

“We did _not_ adopt Roy.”

“I’m standing right here you know. And, I’m totally cool with Felicity adopting me – you not so much.”

“ **Roy**.”

“Yay! I’m a mom.”

“You’re not his mother. Besides Roy is too old to be adopted. “

“You’re never too old to find your family Oliver.”

“That’s right _Dad_.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Come on Blondie—”

“It’s mom now Roy.”

“ _Mom_. Come on. I’ll treat you to Big Belly. You’re not invited Pop.”

“ **ROY**!”

“ _Oliver_.”

“I dated your son. _Yeah_ , that’s _not_ weird at all.”

“Thea, _please_ don’t encourage this.”

“No worries Ollie, you’ll be a great dad. Though you may want to reconsider the vigilante lessons.”

“This is your fault Felicity … and she’s not here anymore. Perfect. Now I’m talking to myself.”

“Still here big brother.”

“You’re _not_ helping Thea.”


	14. Mistaken Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> French mistake type AU. Somehow they come into the real world. Felicity finds out Oliver was going to propose from the trailer. Prompted by anonymous. [Kind of nebulously placed in season four.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like forever and day since I've responded to my outstanding prompts. I blame a certain wifey who put other ideas in my head. Hopefully I will be able to address the others in a timely manner.

One minute they were standing in front of Zatanna Zatara, with Oliver wishing that he had confronted the self-proclaimed Mistress of Magic as the Green Arrow and not himself with Felicity at his side, when her muted words ended with a flash of electric blue in her grey eyes. Seconds later Zatanna had vanished and instead of standing in a damp alley with chilly wind whipping around them Oliver found himself standing in front of array of people with expensive cameras, indicator lights on, focused on him and Felicity.

The sudden and drastic change had her shifting into him and his arm automatically wrapped around her waist, pulling her close so that he protect her from … a film crew? The group waited patiently for what he was not certain, but there was an eerie quiet over the studio as his gaze quickly scanned the area looking for potential threats.

“Oliver,” Felicity used his name as question and he understood that she is asking what happened, just as he knew her brilliant mind was spinning the various scenarios to explain how the world around them went from real to make-believe. The reason why is clear. Wherever they were it was because of Zatanna, but it didn’t explain the lack of shock at their appearance or why a crew of people was just watching them expectantly.

He heard a frustrated sigh and his eyes narrowed in on an older gentlemen sitting on the edge of his chair. His salt and pepper hair had been tugged into haphazard mess. “I know that it is late guys, but I need you to focus if you want to wrap this scene.” The man’s words caused Felicity to grip his wrist on the hand that had settled over her hip when he pulled her into him. When he looked down at her, her sapphire eyes were wide and anxious, but once his gaze landed on her she took a deep breath and relaxed against him. She tilted her head away from the camera and mouthed to him “Play along,” before turning her attention back to the crew and asking, “What’s the line again?”

There is a cacophony of groans that the director – at least Oliver assumed he was the director since he appeared to be in charge – spoke over. “No need to start from the beginning. Emily just go back to your mark, look at Stephen and say: ‘We’ll get through this, Oliver. I promise you,’ and we’ll be able to wrap.”

Oliver was still caught up on the fact that the man had called her Emily that he missed her nod, so when Felicity went to step back from him he tightened his hold on her. She let out a weak chuckle, “My mark is back there,” she said doing her best to point her chin over her shoulder. He followed the line of her movement and saw a duct tape ‘x’ on the floor.

Though it might have appeared strange to their audience Felicity leaned up on her tip toes and whispered in his ear. “Remember, just play along,” she repeated. “We’ll figure out the rest when we’re alone.”

“Right,” he agreed and though he wasn’t happy about losing physical contact with Felicity in this strange environment he released his hold on her and she eased back. Oliver kept his arm out, fingers extended as long as they would go so that they broke contact with each other at the last possible moment. His action caused her to smile softly up at him and he knew no matter what they were dealing with here, he could face it because Felicity was with him. He had faced so much worse with her by his side and they’d always come through it because they’d been together. This was no different.

***

Felicity hadn’t been expected to be pulled away from Oliver after the director called cut, but once the gate was checked and everyone was happy, she got ushered away by her assistant – a person who very much wasn’t Gerry. The next thing she knew people were talking at her, once again calling her ‘Emily’ as makeup was removed and the wardrobe she was wearing was traded out for fluffy robe, which she wore back to a trailer. Which was apparently her trailer or at least the sign on the door of it proclaimed that the trailer belonged to Emily Bett Rickards’s and Emily was the name everyone kept calling her by. Needing real clothes, Felicity raced into the trailer and grabbed the first pair of pants and shirt she could find and ducked into the bathroom to change.

She knew Oliver was probably tensing up at their separation and the thought of his anxiety made hers grow. She vaguely remembered him being referred to as Stephen. Felicity figured she could find someone to direct her towards his trailer or find it herself. Dressed, she raced to the door only to stop dead in her tracks when she opened it to find Ray, hand lifted to knock on her door.

“Hey,” he smiled in greeting and Felicity felt her heart leap. Ray was alive and in front of her and even her big brain could not compute that fact, her body however reacted. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

She both heard and felt him chuckle, “Where else would I be?” he asked patting her back.

In little pieces or burnt to a crisp wasn’t a pleasant option to consider so she bit back the retort and answered lamely, “Central City,” as she pulled out the embrace.

“I’ve missed that wit,” Ray teased – though now that she thought about it was this guy even Ray? Yes, he looked like him, but everyone was calling her Emily, so there was no guarantee that he was her Ray. Not that Ray was _hers_ anymore. Well he was her friend and boss …. sort of. Felicity was certain that the board would vote him back in control in a heartbeat.

Felicity noticed that he was staring at her and she hoped that none of that internal ramble had been said aloud. Uncertain of how to refer to him, because she wasn’t sure who he was, she asked, “What can I do for you Super Suit?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement when he replied, “You still want to run our lines?”

“Ah …” she saw the open camaraderie dim on his face as she drew out the word and it made her heart hurt. “Of course, we said we’d do that, so we should. And we will. I just need a quick word with Ol—Stephen.”

“Sure not a problem. Want me to get us some tea?”

Truthfully a chocolate shake would have helped her process the situation better. A very large, minty chocolate shake, but Felicity didn’t want to do too much to draw attention to the fact that she wasn’t this Emily person they expected her to be. “Sounds great. Thanks! I shouldn’t be too long,” she told him heading left towards a bank of trailers, “you can just wait in my trailer.” Felicity knew she’d be lucky to find Emily’s trailer again but since she highly doubted she’d be able to find his (she highly doubted that his name here was Ray Palmer) it was her best option.

“Ah, Em,” he drew out the nickname, making her stop and look back at him. “Stephen’s trailer is thataway,” he said thumbing behind him.

“Right, of course,” she muttered. “I knew that. It’s just been a _long_ day,” she explained as she walked back past him and in the direction he indicated.

***

He’d been caught unaware when he first lost sight of Felicity. She’d been in his peripheral vision as they were both engulfed by numerous people, but he got distracted by the various questions lobbed at him and when his gaze went in search of her, she was nowhere to be found. He’d tried to break free of the horde but they just followed him as he went in search of her. His actions seemed to bemuse them, but as long as they didn’t get in his way, he did his best to ignore them.

Not that it was an easy feat and he was about to unleash his Arrow demeanor on them when he heard Felicity’s voice, “I knew that. It’s just been a _long_ day.” He cut through row of trailers and saw her walk pass … he came to a dead stop when he saw Palmer. A very much alive and amused Ray Palmer. Oliver felt relief at finding Felicity and seeing Ray alive as well as a twist of jealousy because rebound relationship or not Felicity cared about the man. She had never been in love with him, but she had shared her mind and body with him. While he had a vast past of entanglements, very few of them had truly mattered, and Oliver couldn’t help the sliver of possessiveness he felt because he knew all of Felicity’s had.

Before he could lose sight of her again, Oliver popped out of the space between the rows of trailer. He couldn’t help how he breathed out her name reverently. Ray, or the man who looked like him, eyed him oddly. “Getting a little too method there don’t you think Stephen?” he asked.

He forced out a chuckle, it sounded fake to his own ears, but he did a fair job of lying to people not named Felicity Smoak, so he hoped Not!Ray bought it. “Right. Long day.”

“So Emily mentioned.” The three of them stood there at an awkward standstill until the perky voice of a young PA broke the moment. “Stephen they’re ready to show you the trailers.”

Oliver latched onto the exit strategy. “I was just coming to get,” he paused momentarily to remind himself not to call Felicity by her name, even though it pained him, “Emily. We wanted to view them together.”

Thankfully the pretty plump brunette and Not!Ray did not find that a strange happenstance. “I’ll just be a few,” Felicity promised as she crossed over to him. Oliver could see her struggling not latch on him the second they were close, she was better at maintaining their forced cover than he was, because he couldn’t not touch her. This strange world was so off-kilter that he needed to ground himself in reality and Felicity was his reality. He flung an easy and hopefully friendly appearing arm over her shoulder as they followed the PA.

***

She practically sat on top of Oliver after they were led to yet another trailer. Her side was all but velcroed to his, their hands clasped tightly underneath a pillow she grabbed so no would see and possibly question their behavior. There were a handful of people in the trailer with them, none of them Felicity recognized. They sat in excited silence as the cued video began to play. The familiar WB logo appeared, followed by DC Comics one – she had never heard of them before and she knew there were a number of smaller publishing houses outside of Marvel and Comic House, but she hadn’t realized that any of them were big enough to produce one of their titles. Her musings were quickly forced from that topic by the image of a CW logo – again not something she recognized – followed by the sound of Oliver’s voice. “The Arrow is dead.”

They both tensed as they heard the words and saw him running on a street in their old neighborhood dressed in the green hoodie that had become his uniform during his morning runs. The scene continued as did his voice-over, “I couldn’t be that person even if I wanted to be,” was stated as Oliver raced up to their old house. He entered and Felicity saw herself on the counter and it dawned on her that they had actually lived this moment. Somehow these people had gotten footage of theirs lives. Blistering outrage swirled inside her, and based on the iron hold Oliver had on her hand, he was experience the same epiphany and feeling.

She watched them kiss and while admittedly they were beautiful together, as was the love emanating off the screen between them, the invasion of privacy and the danger it presented terrified her. She was so lost in the repercussions that she missed the rest of video. Oliver’s harsh breathing brought her attention back to their surrounds as the second video began to play.

It was much like the first and she must have taken some of the images in subconsciously because she was not surprised by the flashes of Curtis or Lonnie Machin or Captain Lance. There were some unfamiliar faces as well and Sara? Before she could contemplate what the quick flash of her deceased friend could mean she was jolted by getting a glimpse of Oliver’s past with Amanda Waller. How was that even possible? It would have to mean that these people had been watching them a lot longer than she originally presumed. If that was the case, how could they have allowed for things to just unfold as they did instead of preventing them?

“Last one,” a masculine voice stated. This trailer left out the logos and started with a voice-over by Amanda Waller. If it was possible, Oliver got tenser at the woman’s voice, but even that _paled_ in comparison when she heard herself ask, “What’s the occasion?” at their last dinner in Ivy Town before she saw Oliver tucking a ring – _a diamond engagement ring_ – into one of the soufflés they never got to eat that night.

The teaser played on but Felicity didn’t take the rest of it in. Her mind was literally stuck on the notion that Oliver had been about to propose. As in he was going to ask her to be his wife and spend the rest of their lives together … the people viewing the videos with them cheered and hooted as the last one ended. The sound jarred her and the only thing Felicity could think was that she had to get away. She wasn’t sure how she managed to disentangle herself from Oliver but one second she was on the couch with him and the next she had bolted.

She was panting, struggling to pull air into her lungs and settle her jumbled emotions when Oliver found her a few minutes later. She had lost herself in the maze of trailers and while she anxious over what he might say she was grateful he was there with her.

“Felicity,” he said her name in a soothing tone and she could all but see the words ‘will you marry me’ when she met his pleading azure eyes.

“Don’t,” she told him. He said her name again, in the elongated way he liked to draw it out in and she felt a shudder course through her. Again she ordered, harsher this time, “ _Don’t_!”

He stopped short and she watched his jaw flex. “I wanted the perfect moment,” he started to explain and Felicity groaned loudly. “What part of don’t is so difficult, Oliver?”

The hurt that flashed across his face washed away the panic she’d been feeling since seeing the ring. And really it wasn’t about the ring or the question, Felicity knew her answer, it was about when Oliver had been ready to ask. Back in Ivy Town she would have said yes she knew, but if they hadn’t gone back to Star City and gone through the growing pains of her being CEO by day and hero support by night with Oliver as mayoral candidate by day and Green Arrow by night, Felicity was certain she would not have felt as secure in their future – their _real_ future as partners in _everything_ – then as she did now. “I’m not mad at you for not asking,” she told him stepping into the space he’d left between them. “I love you and when you do ask me I don’t want you to doubt what my answer will be, but I swear on a bottle ‘82 Chateau Lafite Rothschild Oliver Queen if you ask me now, while we’re trapped in this crazy sideways universe, because I saw that your initial plan got foiled you won’t like my very loud answer.” He grimaced slightly at the warning. Felicity lifted a hand to his face, cupped his cheek and took a moment to rub her thumb against his stubble and just feel him – how solid and warm he was and how much she loved him. “I don’t need a perfect moment,” she told him as they gazed at each other, “but you will _not_ propose to me because bizarro world tipped your hand. Got that?”

He smiled at her, that full beaming smile that she was still getting used to because before their time away together his smiles were just quick controlled upturns of his lips. “Got it,” he assured her. “But just so you know,” he continued as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, “the _second_ we get home and I have the ring in my possession, I _will_ be asking you that question.”

The promise of his words zinged through her, sparking every nerve and making her feel more cherished and whole than she’d ever had in her life. “Then let’s find our way home already.”


	15. Smoakin’ Harper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Roy and Felicity are siblings. Prompted by anonymous.

He’d been seven when his parents dragged him Vegas on a drug and alcohol fused binge. They’d left him at the all-you-can-eat buffet in one of the more rundown casinos along the Strip to gamble. Hours later he was still waiting for them to return. When he started getting circumspect looks from the waitresses and busboys, Roy darted in and out of the casino floor looking for his inebriated folks. He never found them, but he had found Donna Smoak. She’d taken one look at his apprehensive and hangdog face and fallen in love, at least that’s what she told him years later when he asked why she’d taken him home to her brainiac daughter and hadn’t called the police or CPS.

Somehow, through the connections Donna made working in the various casinos throughout Vegas, she’d managed to officially make Roy William Harper a member of the Smoak family. Donna and Felicity showed him what family was supposed to be, people loving each other unconditionally, being there and being supportive.

Though he missed his older sister when she earned early admission to MIT on a full scholarship, he’d cheered her on as she went to board the plane for Boston. It was only after takeoff that both he and their mother cried about her absence.

Admittedly after Felicity left for college he was lax in his studies, but he didn’t want to fail his girls, so he managed to keep a ‘C’ average by just coasting along. Even Felicity’s long distance pep talks could not keep from putting in more than the minimal effort into his studies when he could be down off the glittering tourist trap that was the Strip and learning useful hands-on things like auto repair, carpentry and less Smoak approved things like fighting techniques, hotwiring and lock picking. He never stole, Roy would never disappoint his mother and sister that way, but knowing how to do things – all sorts of things, well that was his thing, like building computers was Felicity’s. He’d picked that up too, not to mastery level she had achieved, but enough to take a machine apart and put it back together correctly.

When Felicity graduated from MIT and got offered a position with great growth potential at Queen Consolidated she’d jumped on the opportunity leaving Roy with a decision to make. Felicity wanted him to move to Starling with her, get a job there and if she could prod him into it, take classes at the local community college. He hated the thought of leaving Donna on her own, but unlike her children, she had an actual love and affinity for Las Vegas. In fact, they were both certain that if Donna ever decided to leave Sin City it would crumble without her.

Their mother loved the idea of her babies being together again, looking out for each other. Plus Starling was a just short plane or train ride from Vegas. In a few hours they could easily all be together again, unlike when Felicity was on the east coast. So that is how he found himself leaving the over-bright lights of Vegas for Starling, living in a cute and reasonably priced brownstone in Starling with his big sister, actually attending a class or two each semester even though he had no major selected at Staring City University and working at gym as an attendant/instructor.

It was a good life, if a relatively simple one, but considering that day long ago when he found himself alone at the mercy of providence, Roy knew how lucky he was – he knew his life could have gone in another direction, a less pleasant one if someone who had not had the pure intentions of Donna found him or if he ended up in a system that failed more often than it succeeded. Still he couldn’t help but search for something more, for meaning greater than himself and his family; little did he know that he would find that meaning in a hooded vigilante or what the repercussions of seeking to aid him in his mission would be.

***

The bad lighting, smell of stale coffee, and really uncomfortable chair was disconcerting. Felicity knew they were meant to be, as was the gruff detective sitting across from her in the Starling City Police Department interrogation room. Don’t freak out, she order herself. There was nothing concrete … well nothing truly substantial tying her to the vigilante and his cohorts.

Detective Lance had no way of knowing that the man known throughout the city as the Arrow was Oliver Queen, that his red-hooded compatriot was her brother Roy or that the man who provided them both backup was John Diggle. And really, besides a very nifty back trace, there was no way to tie her to them. To hacking the SCPD, probably, though if she could get to a computer Felicity figured she could compromise their proof. Not that she could even hint to that possibility. Frankly, she was willing to take the hit if meant protecting her bother, one of best friends and her maybe, kind of boyfriend. It was really hard to determine the status of her relationship with Oliver when the dumb pine tree looked at like she hung moon, kissed her silly and then apologized and told her it would never happen again because of the life that he leads. Funny how he seemed to miss that she was living that life right there beside him.

Granted she had been livid when Roy had been dragged into his mission. She had berated the injured vigilante when she found Roy patching him in his bedroom, identity still intact at the time. It had been her diatribe about being able to ruin him if she knew his name with a few keystrokes if he ever involved her brother again that had planted her capabilities in his head. When had requested Roy to ask her a week later for technical assistance she had been royally upset, so much so, that she employed her loud voice much to her brother’s chagrin. The vigilante had the decency to look mildly impressed by her lung capacity, and he took it in stride as she cursed him and her need to solve mysteries – they bugged her – as she hacked into the SCPD for him.

That’s how it went for a few weeks, Roy delivering appeals for assistance (a number of them outlandish and beyond her normal expertise, but she always managed to come through) and if she’d known at the time that the Arrow had capitulated and begun training her brother, his price for playing delivery boy, she would have cyberly destroyed them both. But when she found out the vigilante’s identity, because he crawled into the back of her mini after being shot – by his own mother – well things had changed. He’d been an idea to her before, a shadowy half-face, not a person and certainly not the haunted visage of Oliver Queen.

The Arrow, Felicity could easily say no to, Oliver was another story. He’d suffered so much and while his methods had been dubious now that she understood his reasoning and life or death mentality when he was out in the field, she couldn’t deny her need to assist him his crusade. Nor could she keep Roy out it because a hypocrite she was not, no matter how much she wanted to be able to protect her overzealous little brother.

But he had Oliver and John Diggle, his body guard and most honorable man Felicity had ever met, training him and watching his back. Nothing could take away the anxiety she felt when they were out taking on the names in Oliver’s book or criminals with the notion of making a name for themselves by targeting the Arrow, but there was a small sense of comfort knowing that both Oliver and Dig would risk their lives to make sure her brother made it back home to her.

The eerie quiet that Detective Lance allowed to hang over the room made Felicity fidget in her seat as she tried to maintain eye contact with him. His dark eyes were cold and calculating as they scrutinized her. When she finally lost the battle of wills and dropped her gaze from his he asked, “You’re not exactly a hardened criminal, are you?”

“No,” she said with a quick shake of her head. Felicity could feel the brush of her ponytail against the back of her neck. “I’m not any kind of criminal,” she assured him as she forced her blue eyes to meet his again.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Conversationally he asked, “What do you call computer hacking?”

“A hobby,” she answered quickly without giving herself time to weigh her words. She winched slightly when he raised a brow to her response. “That I do _not_ engage in,” she added quickly, her voice pleading with him to believe her.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. “I've got a whole mess of computer gobbledy gook that I don't understand that says otherwise. I had my tech guys scrub through your computer at Queen Consolidated. You used it to hack into Blackhawk Security, to research arrows shipped to a company called Sagittarius, and to analyze water that tied back to a Vertigo drug lab.” With each example of her work for Oliver he listed he sat up straighter in his chair. He let her activities hang preciously in the air between them before he leaned forward over the table, "These are all cases involving the Arrow." Those words had her hunching her shoulders into herself, trying to make herself smaller, a target that no one would be interested in. Though it seemed to pain him slightly, the detective asked, "Tell me Felicity what am I thinking?"

Felicity swallowed hard. Truthfully she was thinking she was screwed. So very screwed. And really she wasn’t fit for prison. Anyone looking at her with her fizzy ponytail and fuzzy pink sweater could tell that. Loud voice her not, she was not an imitating person. She was saved from babbling any of that out by the ringing of the detective’s cell phone.

Lance offered her a shark-like grin, “Saved by the bell,” he quipped. He reached into his suit jacket pocket to get his phone, “Excuse me,” he said before taking the call.

Felicity couldn’t hear the person on the other end of the call, but watched as the detective’s eyes narrowed. “It’s funny you should call. I’ve got your trusty sidekick sitting right in front of me.”

Her heart leapt at his words. Oliver, who had no idea she’d been picked up, was on the other end of the call. She had no idea how he’d take the news, Felicity could only hope that he wouldn’t give an indication to their connection. Though if Roy and Diggle weren’t with him there was no way of knowing which sidekick was currently in the hot seat.

There was a long pause and she watched as Lance’s face paled and he closed his eyes briefly, as if he was struggling to take in the words he was hearing. He turned away from her and pushed off the table to stand. “What,” he chuckled as he began to pace the room. “You’re just trying to have some fun with me,” he said, but Felicity could hear it in voice, the quaver that said he knew otherwise.

When he hung up the phone moments later she took in his worried lined faced and remarked, “It sounds like you have bigger problems than me.”

The detective inhaled and exhaled dramatically, as if he was trying to shake the weight of the world off of him. Their eyes met and dueled again. “Don’t leave town,” he ordered.

Felicity quickly leapt up from the chair she’d been glued to and hurried towards the door. She opened it, but before exiting she turned and looked back a Lance. He was a good man, Felicity knew that and even with the trouble they’d had with him earlier in Oliver’s nighttime career, he’d been a valuable resource. “You know,” she told him, pleading with him with her eyes to truly understand, “I used to think the Arrow was a criminal too,” not mention a bad influence she thought to herself. “But it seems to me whoever he is, he’s willing to sacrifice an awful lot to help the people of this city.”

Felicity could see her words sinking in. When he didn’t immediately reject them she continued, “It kind of makes him a hero, doesn’t?” she asked. Lance held her gaze, neither confirming nor denying her sentiment. She took his willingness to consider her point of view as a win. She offered him a quick, crooked smile before edging out of the room.

She knew she had to get to Oliver, Roy and Dig as quickly as she could, they had the evil machinations of Malcolm Merlyn to prevent.


	16. Popping the Question (Or Trying To)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If you've seen the latest Trailer could you do one with something like ...
> 
> Thea -》"Ignore him. He's just upset that we interr..."  
> Oliver -》"Thea!"
> 
> Requested by [bluebell_uk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebell_uk/pseuds/bluebell_uk). [Dialogue only fic.]

“Ignore him. He’s just upset that we interr—”

“ _Thea_!”

“What?”

“It was just dessert, which I’ve already said my diet would prefer I avoid, Oliver. There is no need to snap at your sister.”

“Diet?”

“He’s a master chef. Who knew right? Even with our bedroom …”

“TMI, TMI!”

“… gymnastics the amount of stellar food he feeds me is going to my hips.”

“Now there was a problem I wish we had when we dated.”

“Really Laurel? It’s bad enough Olli’s current squeeze is scarring me for life. You don’t really need to pile it on.”

“Sorry.”

“She’s really not.”

“ _Oliver_.”

“Stop with the heart eyes already, they’re almost worse than accidental overshare.”

“Apparently that’s nothing.”

“…”

“Diggle’s told me things. I know he misses you Felicity and think, despite his anger, he secretly misses Olli.”

“That’s not the only _not_ so secret thing around here.”

“ **Thea**.”

“Do not growl at your sister Oliver Queen.”

“They interrupted our night.”

“Dinner is over … no, don’t try to bring up dessert again. Yes, the soufflés look delectable and I’m sure they are super delicious but our friends came here to see us.”

“They could have at least called.”

“Thanks brother mine, I feel so loved.”

“It is _good_ to see you Speedy, but your timing could have been better.”

“Okay, obviously we’re missing something.”

“I dunno what.”

“Just – you know. Do it.”

“I can’t.”

“Seriously what’s going here?”

“You can.”

“Laurel’s here.”

“So?”

“Really Speedy?”

“Oh … riiiiiiiight.”

“Right? Right what? What’s wrong with me being here?”

“ _Nothing_. We’re happy to have you here. Right Oliver?”

“Personally, I’m not thrilled that either of them are here.”

“ ** _OLIVER_**.”

“Woah! I’ve heard stories about the loud voice but _wow_ Diggle really undersold it. It is terrifying.”

“No wonder he and Oliver live in fear of it.”

“We do _not_ live in …”

“Thought so. Now apologize to Thea and Laurel and start behaving like the annoyingly good host I’ve seen you be for the Hoffmans.”

“Fine.”

“And stop being such a grumpy bear.”

“…”

“Please, for me.”

“Because it’s you asking. Come on Thea, I need some help in the kitchen.”

…

…

“Seriously what conversation were they not having?”

“Not a clue, Laurel.”


	17. Uncle John’s Band (of Misfits)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what would be awesome? Constantine being her [Felicity] half-brother or super young uncle...just saying this season is all about mysticism. Even if in the comics Constantine is supposed to be in his 40s to 60s the actor is Amell's age...(34) Prompted by [arjuna_anja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/arjuna_anja/pseuds/arjuna_anja).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is WAY shorter than I intended. As much as I love Constantine, I feel completely incapable of writing him.

The minute Laurel and Thea had confessed the truth behind their _spa_ visit, and really confess was the wrong term; Sara's escape and trail of bodies had _forced_ their hand, particularly after Oliver had come face-to-face with her. With the truth reveled Felicity knew exactly what needed done, she had to call her wacky uncle, John Constantine. And by wacky she meant complete lunatic and by uncle she meant the kind who adopted the term by telling her to call him uncle. There were at least two dozen rich, superstitious men who had latched onto her mother over the years as their good luck charm – every last one of them insisted on her referring to them as her uncle, which hadn't been creepy until one of them inappropriately hit on with her when she was fifteen. A protective Donna Smoak was a sight to behold and said “uncle” was still barred from Las Vegas.

Constantine was different from all of those other uncles. He flittered in and out of their lives like so many of them did, but her mother had never been a good luck charm to him. Instead they’d been his breath of fresh air; his exact words when she asked him the last time she saw him before heading off to MIT were, “You’re both a reminder that there is something pure and bright in this damnable world.”

He’d popped up in Boston once (“Need my dose of Felicity,” he said hugging her tight), but she hadn’t seen him since moving to Starling though he had called to check on her after the Undertaking and again after Slade’s army had run amuck. She’d been the one to reach out to him when Oliver had brought up the Lazarus Pit, Felicity had ended up having to leave him a message and she hadn’t got his returned response (“Bloody hell no! You go near that pit and I will not be responsible for my actions.”) until after they had returned to from Nanda Parbat. After assuring him that she had not come in contact with the magic hot tub waters, she hadn’t heard a peep from him.

But this – an undead on a rampage Sara – was a problem right up is mystical alley. She dialed the number she had memorized and was beyond grateful when he answered her call on the third ring with his standard greeting for her, “Love.”

“I need to call in a favor,” Felicity replied without preamble. There was no time to waste.


	18. A+B Does Not Always Equal C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [geniewithwifi](http://geniewithwifi.tumblr.com): AU where person A really likes person B and has from afar and person B really likes them back also from afar but during the meet-cute something goes horribly wrong and person A gives a bad first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genie I swear I wasn’t ignoring you, I’ve just been a horrible fanfic writer of late and, in fact, my first attempt at this sputtered and died. Not sure about the second attempt, but I figured what the hell. Also, I ~~blame~~ err, I mean The Presence is definitely a nod to [MachaSWicket](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket)’s [The Unbearable Hotness of Being](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7020103).

She had been watching The Presence as she’d come to think of the too handsome stranger for over a month. Not that she was stalking him. He was pretty to look at and Felicity was certain if she wasn’t careful she might actually drool while gazing – discreetly – at him, but after experiencing an overzealous lacrosse player in college she had firm rules about her own actions and what she found acceptable. Getting to her favorite coffeehouse ten minutes earlier than her previously usual arrival time was not stalking The Presence because she would have ended up there anyhow, now she just  got a side-full of gorgeous with her morning java and out of work early – barring any unforeseen technological meltdowns – and really that was a win/win situation.

And not _stalking_.

Though if she had to stress to herself that it wasn’t perhaps she needed to reconsider if she was closer to the line then she’d like, but really, it was entirely his fault. The Presence was a rare specimen of male beauty, rugged and muscly with a stubble covered angular jaw and piecing blue eyes that were bluer than blue. In fact, Felicity was certain that in all the variations of the color there wasn’t a shade known that accurately captured the color of The Presence’s eyes. They were always intense and seemed to take in everything, catalogue it, even while his large frame stood loose and he blinded an unsuspecting and fully unprepared public with his pearly white smile.

Even seeing him up close with her own eyes Felicity was not completely satisfied that he wasn’t somehow Photoshoped. Though how he managed that particular feat outside of the ones and zeros of code she knew and loved so well would have been a mystery she’d happily like to solve. Not to mention use it to her own advantage, if only to avoid her 15-minute morning makeup ritual.

Even his voice, low and smooth the few times she’d been close enough in line to hear it, was perfect. It might be entirely ridiculous to think that considering she had no way to know if his smarts matched his appearance; but if he had even a quarter of the brains to his looks ratio then he would be totally swoon worthy. And considering the assessment she’d seen in eyes and the patient way he dealt with gobsmacked baristas Felicity was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Or had been until their cataclysmic face-to-face first encounter.

\---

He was padding a napkin over her blouse, soaking up the iced coffee that had drenched them both when they had collided before Oliver could think the better of it. The adorable blonde he’d spotted in Jitters a month ago and had been trying to figure out how to approach had yelped comically – not when their bodies bumped together – but when the crushed cup containing the cold liquid of her morning caffeine erupted between them, showering them both with the creamy concoction.

Her perfectly pink stained lips formed an oh of surprise as she breathed out, “That’s cold,” and as her fingers around the cup brushed against his chest, her near violet hued eyes widened and she commented, “and you’re very firm.”

Oliver couldn’t help the grin that started to spread across his face. It wasn’t the meet-cute he wanted with the curvy, bespectacled woman who always wore bright colors and didn’t even have to speak to place her order, but disaster or not, he was _finally_ getting a chance to interact with her.

Her words seemed to catch up with her and her cheeks went rosy as she took a jolting step back from him. Oliver hadn’t liked the sudden distance between them and he shifted ever so slightly, using the napkins he reached for as an excuse to stay close. “And you’re wet,” he said grabbing a handful.

The innuendo in his observation based comment hadn’t occurred to him, but the object of his month-long fascination froze at his words. Her bottom lip was caught in her teeth, her cheeks deepening in color – going near crimson, and her eyes were saucer wide behind her two-toned glasses. She was a picture of loveliness with her long blonde hair tied in a high, professional ponytail; dressed in a pale pink blouse that matched the center color the flowers on her print skirt in which it was tucked.

Wanting to save her skirt from being stained by the coffee he started to pad the trailing, offensive liquid. It wasn’t until he heard her suck in a sharp breath that he realized where exactly he was touching her and worse off when it finally dawned on Oliver that his hand was on her breast he froze. He stood there dumbly; his hand was on one her breasts, not moving, and just stared at it. Her sodden shirt and a wad of napkins was between his hand and her porcelain flesh but he could feel the warmth of her and the slight trembling of her body.

He didn’t move his hand … not to pull away, not to keep trying to clean her up, not to do anything.

A feminine voice called out, “Felicity,” and she jerked away from him, forcing Oliver to finally look away from where he’d been touching her, but when he lifted his gaze she wouldn’t meet his. Instead she danced around him and straight towards the spikey haired barista who was giving him a hard, distrustful look. They disappeared behind the counter and out of sight, leaving him standing there utterly bemused and equally horrified by his actions, clutching damp napkins.

He had finally got to meet the girl he could not shake from his thoughts, to learn her name, Felicity – the melodic name suited her – and he made a complete ass of himself. Groaning in frustration, Oliver tossed the used napkins in the trash and shoulders slumped exited Jitters with a fierce frown on his face.


	19. A+B x 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since [mochababychristy](http://mochababychristy.tumblr.com/), [redpensandhoodies](http://redpensandhoodies.tumblr.com/), and [aprilb73](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilb73/pseuds/aprilb73) requested more of the A+B AU. [Original ask response.](http://bushlaboo.tumblr.com/post/146707999819/au-where-person-a-really-likes-person-b-and-has)

Felicity did not know what was worse, her complete lack of a reaction to The Presence touching her – she could still close her eyes and remember how his large, weathered hand looked against the vibrant pink of her blouse – or how she skipped her early arrival at Jitters for a week after and when she finally worked up the courage, though if it was to tell him off or to say he owed her at least a cup of coffee if not a proper date for feeling her up, she wasn’t certain. Of course, when she had finally shown up early again her favorite mouthy brunette informed her that The Presence had not, according to Sin’s words, “darkened their door” since their very awkward encounter. And, also, according to her friend it was a good thing since Sin had left notice for his drink order to be wrong until he finally cried uncle and stopped coming to Jitters.

It took a good fifteen minutes and a stuttering confession that she _liked_ -liked the guy, even if he had been unfortunately handsy with her. Felicity was certain it had been accidental, granted her sample size was limited, but The Presence had been too polite to be the type of person to get fresh with a stranger. Sin had relented, well at least to the point that she’d pulled the order from the other baristas, but if she was working behind Jitters’ luxurious La Marzocco Linea, The Presence would be getting the exact opposite of whatever he ordered. Considering how protective Sin was of her friends, Felicity knew it was the best compromise she could get, not that she ended up needing it. Two weeks later and The Presence had not been seen inside of Jitters at any time during their 5 am to 11 pm, Monday through Sunday schedule.

Felicity had in fact resigned herself to never laying her eyes on The Presence again, a thought that made her extremely mopey, when she ended up bumping into him in the least conceivable place. Sadly, it was not a romantic comedy kind of kismet second meeting. Their eyes did not catch each other's across a crowded room with a flash recognition and unspoken apology between them, before they naturally drifted towards one another, allowing for a slow coming together. There were no flirty smiles spreading across their faces as they came to meet in the middle and breathlessly introduce themselves.

No, that was **not** her life.

Her life involved a plate full of barbecue and literally crashing into The Presence. If that was not dreadful enough, she ended up babbling at him as she attempted to wipe at the mixture of sauce, potato salad, and guacamole that had ended up covering him when her very full plate got squashed against his very firm chest. At least she hadn’t commented on his solid wall of muscle this time. Not that Felicity had been aware of where exactly her hand was brushing against him; her mouth was too busy moving of its own accord while her brain tried to keep up. That was until something twitched beneath her hand and his pants tented slightly.

She froze in mid-sentence, her hand stopping over the fly of his beige cargo pants and even though her hand continued to lightly touch him _there_ , for the life of her Felicity could not pull it back. She felt her cheeks flush and her gaze started ping-ponging around the park – what she was looking for she had no idea – her usually lightning fast brain was in full on crash mode.

A wry, female voice asking “Who’s your friend Ollie?” brought her system back online. Her gaze landed on the smirking pixie who was saddling up next to The Presence, her green eyes dancing with wicked delight. Felicity felt herself making a face at the name. Ollie sounded like frat boy who cared more about his next beer than what was taking place in the world around him, which was the exact opposite of who she’d come to believe The Presence to be. Though considering how much had gone wrong between them in their interaction it shouldn’t have surprise her that she’d gotten her assessment wrong.

\---

Oliver had been cursing a lot of things over the last two weeks, himself most of all, but colliding with a plate of food at his baby sister’s birthday bash had been the very last straw. Or at least it had been until he realized who had doused him in barbecue. Felicity, the woman he desperately wanted to see again while completely dreading the possibility.  So much so, that he had stopped going to Jitters and subjected himself to a bland chain coffeehouse for his morning caffeine fix.

He’d been arguing with himself, making a list of pros and cons about returning to his favorite coffeehouse – and really returning was winning out because it meant another chance to see her and hopefully set things right between them, not to mention getting a decent latte again. If nothing else he wanted the opportunity to apologize for his bumbling lack of manners.

He had been unable to get a word in edgewise because Felicity started to make her apology for running into him, but upon recognizing him words started to fly fast and furious out of her mouth, which was glossed with bright red lipstick this time. And they kept coming. Oliver would have been perfectly content to stand there and listen to her until she either ran out of words or breath, but he lost all train of thought when her hand, napkin clutched in it, reached out and began brushing at the food covering him.

Felicity made a few swipes at his chest before her hand dipped lower and Oliver forgot everything else around him, the only thing he could concentrate on was the fact that the object of his affection was touching him. When he could not stop his body from reacting to her he swore at himself as she stilled before him, completely mortified, and he hated that Felicity was now experiencing the same crushing embarrassment he himself had felt just two weeks prior. Oliver wanted to prevent her from torturing herself as he had with self-recrimination and what-ifs, but before he could try to smooth over the situation Thea was beside him, practically eating her tongue as she asked, “Who’s your friend Ollie?”

He scrunched his eyes closed at her question losing sight of Felicity and shifted ever so slightly back from where she had been touching him. Oliver knew if maintained the contact Thea would only make the situation more uncomfortable with her own pointed brand of teasing. He kind of hoped if he kept his eyes closed he might be able to pretend that the whole encounter hadn’t happened, not that he wasn’t thrilled to see Felicity again, he most definitely was, just not here. Not like this, especially with Thea around to comment.

Another familiar feminine voice forced him to face reality. “Again? What is it with you two Smoak?” Oliver recognized the barista from their last messy collision and he wondered idly if the glower on her face was her default expression.

“I – he … _Sin_ ,” Felicity pleaded as she curled into herself.

Sighing, Sin threw an arm around her and called out with a wave, “Later Harper,” before directing Felicity away from the party and out of the park.

“You might want to do something about that,” Thea commented knowingly, making him extremely uncomfortable because what kind of sister even acknowledge his condition, unless she meant the colorful smear of food covering his clothes – please let that be what Thea was referencing – “and work on your moves or, you know, talking in general if you want a girl to stick around.” With that cheeky advice given she flipped her hair at him as she turned before sprinting back over to her boyfriend.

Oliver groaned as she left, rubbing his hands over his face in dismay until it struck him that the Harper the barista had called out to had to be Roy. He did the relational math in his head: Roy knew Sin, Sin knew Felicity; which meant he might actually have a chance to meet her, without any food or drink involved, and get to speak with her without any sort of calamity befalling them.

That knowledge had him grinning as he bent down to pick up the dropped plate of food, Oliver was already plotting how to get Roy to make the introduction, before he discarded the ruined plate and headed towards the bathroom to clean himself up.


End file.
